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by Elsetetra
Summary: For years of her own life, she'd immersed herself in stories woven of people and worlds greater than hers, and there was no triumph sweeter than stepping into a grand tale of her own. -Story of an OC companion. Rating could possibly go up. Please read and review, feedback is greatly appreciated.-
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Doctor Who, BBCA, or any other works of fictions I may make references to.**

**I'd also like to point out that I developed Clara (Clara Honorine being her full name) _LONG_ before we even knew where was going to be a new companion this season and she has no connection what-so-ever to the companion Jenna Louise Coleman is supposed to be playing this season.**

**With that being said, enjoy.**

* * *

The distinct ringing of a bell sounded as the door to the real estate agency along the busy Cardiff street opened, the blonde waving back at her co-workers as she stepped out, having clocked out for the evening and wanting nothing more than to head home and curl up with a good book for the night.

"Right, yeah, I'll see you tomorrow, then." Backpack sagging, Clara tugged the strap a little more over her shoulder, straightening the hem of her sweater—She'd changed previously, of course; she could never get away with wearing jeans and sneakers in such a professional environment. If she ran a shop one day, perhaps, but not today.

As she rounded the corner of the door and directed herself for the parking garage, a man roughly the same age darted clumsily out of the door, chucks smacking against the pavement as he gave chase. "Clara, you forgot this." Breathless, he stopped short just behind her as she turned on her heels, and handed a copy of Paradise Lost over to her.

"Thanks plenty, Charles." She took the book, bowing her head slightly and studying the cover for a moment before turning back to him. He shrugged, smiling for a moment as it appeared he was contemplating saying something.

"Uh… Hey, what are your plans for Friday?" Charles asked, his words decidedly rehearsed, a little nervous.

"Curling up to finish my latest book and probably watching Jimmy Fallon and Craig Ferguson till I fall asleep on the couch, as usual. Maybe some Graham Norton. Why, have you got a proposal?"

"Ah- well, you know, maybe if you wanted to go catch a movie or something, that would be… cool?"

Quirking an eyebrow, Clara stared at him for a bit less than a moment before a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, pulling him out of his mild panic.

"I'll look at what's in the theatres and get back to you on that one, alright?" She shrugged slightly, thinking on it for a moment. "The fair is in town, if nothing good is in the theatres that might be a more enjoyable alternative."

"Right, that sounds good. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah, see you." As Charles waved goodbye and rushed inside to clock out, Clara gave a small wave goodbye in return, a slight smile on her face as she ducked her head and continued for the parking garage. Despite the unexpected question her friend had just posed, it was simply an average Wednesday again. Wake up, go to work, come home, read, sleep, and start the whole cycle over again. Of course, on weekends and off-days, she got some well-earned down time with room to schedule anything she liked in. But for the most part, it was a monotonous schedule. And she was fine with that; content, even.

As she passed by an alleyway, one she'd not give a second glance to ordinarily, she stopped—A blue police box, looking someone broken and abused, sat haphazardly in the alleyway like it had always been there. She'd never seen a police box in Wales, and she wasn't certain they had them anywhere else even in England anymore. The last one Clara recalled sat on a street corner in London when her father had taken her on vacation in 1990. She hadn't seen one since—That one looked rather old as it was, she doubted it was there anymore. So the presence of a police box in an alleyway in Cardiff was quite the shocker. Peering around the corner, Clara looked at the box for a moment, then around the street before entering the alleyway, puzzled. It looked rather damaged; the question was, how did it get that way? As she approached it, she, quite tentatively, began to stick her hand out to touch it; however, her actions were short-lived as the door was thrown open, a man standing there staring down at her with a dim, gold-toned light for his background. His brown hair was a tad messy, but it wasn't as though it didn't work, just like the trainers he wore with his blue suit. The color or the pinstripes reminded her of the box he'd emerged from, she decided.

Stepping out, the man quickly closed the door as though he was at haste to keep her prying eyes from within his mysterious booth, eying her quizzically all the while. His russet trench coat caught in the door for a moment, and he looked away only for a moment to tug it loose. As Clara had finally decided to speak, he cut her off, his tone bright and exultant.

"Hello! Ah—You may want to stay away from downtown today. Just a warning, trust me on this one. I know. Just head home, yeah?" A warm smile sat on his lips all the while, and he made a motion as though he was about to turn and leave, but was stopped short as Clara stopped him.

"Um, hold on, is this yours?"

"Oh, of course it is, when do you see strange men walking out of boxes that aren't theirs?"

"It- Well, it looks damaged."

"Yeah, she is." The man patted his box affectionately. "I've got to run off and get some supplies, all of her circuits are all messed up and I don't seem to have what I need. Imagine that! You ought to run home, though, you really should. Stay away from the capital building too, I mean it!" Without another word, he turned on his heels and jogged off, leaving Clara there.

She stood for a moment, making hesitant moments as though to leave at first, but after a moment grew extremely frustrated and proceeded forwards. She examined the box a little closer; "POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX", the top read, in big white letters that glowed against the back backdrop of the sign. The lantern inside glowed dimly of a blue color reminiscent of that of the box itself, really only visible in the shade of the buildings around her. And—quite noticeably, in fact—the boxed was dinged and banged and bruised, the paint scuffed and a few small patches missing pieces of the wood altogether, those areas being where the wiring poked out, sparking and humming, livid with electricity.

It didn't seem like the man was returning any time soon, so she settled herself on the soiled concrete, dumping her backpack beside her and rummaging through it. She was an amateur, of course, not having gone to school to become a mechanic, but she'd spent her childhood and teenage years tinkering with machinery and electronics and reading up on their mechanics, and at the very least she was determined to patch up what she could. Her fingers eventually found her toolbelt among the other clutter in her bag, snatching up the handle of a wrench and pulling it out. A wrench, that was a start, even if she couldn't use it for much else. The circuitry in one of the empty patches was rather remarkable; she'd spent a good amount of time studying it, attempting to make some sort of sense of the wiring when footsteps emanated from behind her. She didn't notice at first, of course, engorged in her work, but the presence looming over her from behind was too foreboding to ignore and in an instant she stood, whipping around as her wrench clattered to the concrete.

"I thought I told you to head home," the man said, the look on his face clearly a little distraught.

"Well—Yes, but—"

"Oh, never mind that." Brushing past, he carried the plastic bag into the box, pushing the door open and disappearing inside. Tentatively, Clara watched him, glancing around at her surroundings for a moment before stepping in—and, of course, having to step back out again to make sure the box wasn't just a door in the wall. Sure enough, it was an independent unit, and its exterior didn't match its interior in the slightest.

"It's… bigger on the inside…" Her words were a bit breathless, muttered without the intention to be heard. Of course, though, they were.

"Yup," he replied, with a pop on the 'p'. "Amazing, isn't it?" The man continued on with his work, running off on a tangent. "The thing that does it is a chameleon circuit. What I'm working on right here. The wire always seems to pop loose, see, never wants to repair the exterior of the ship after a major collision, because it always manages to shimmy itself loose. And I seem to have misplaced my solder, so I had to pop out for some more."

Clara went a little further in, reaching the steps before she stopped her slow wander up. Glancing back, she saw that, upon further inspection, the man was soldering some wires together inside a panel within the wall that was lined with the golden lights that had framed him upon his advent. Suddenly, he jumped back, dropping the iron and cursing hoarsely under his breath, having burned himself with the scalding tip.

"Are you alright?" Clara asked, her tone with palpable alarm. Still shaking his hand back and forth in an attempt to ease the stinging, a wide grin spread across his face.

"Oh, yeah, just a little burn is all," he replied.

"That doesn't seem to horribly pleasant, though..."

"Oh, well, heavens no, it stings like a bugger! But it's just a little _burn_, I'll be fine."

"Right, uh—" She glanced around for a moment, realizing she'd left her bag outside. "I might have some first aid supplies in my bag, do you need them?"

"Nah, I'll just go run it under some cold water." He made a face, shrugging. "You wanna grab your bag while I do that?"

"Wait—_Pardon_?"

"Well, you're coming, aren't you?" The look on the man's face was rather expectant, if only a _little_ dejected.

"I—Um—" To be honest she had to think on it for a moment; a strange man in a strange box was asking her to come along and she didn't even know his name? Well, considering the events of the day, it seemed pretty logical to her. Besides, for the most part none of this was rational, and it was likely she was running through a dream. Perhaps if she went along with it she'd wake up, though she wasn't sure she'd want to when all was said and done, should things continue to take a more amiable path.

Without waiting for an answer, the man flashed her a quick smile and loped off down one of the hallways. "You decide, then, while I go run this under cold water!"

Clara stood there for a moment, visibly confused and a tad bit startled. She contemplated her decision for a moment, growing a little more exasperated as she stood. Eventually, becoming visibly frustrated, she groaned, rushing out of the box and snatching up her bag and her wrench before dashing back inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: A quick disclaimer was added to the beginning of last chapter and a typo was fixed. So that's nice uvu

* * *

The plaza in front of the capital building in Cardiff was an absolute mess, people and news crews as far as the eye could see—All clearly interested on the billowing pillars of smoke from the east wing of the building, a result of the bombing that occurred not an hour earlier. In the midst of it all, a distinct whirring, a grinding of engines signaled the arrival of a distinct blue box amongst the people gathered there. Of course, it went unnoticed, as its arrival usually did, especially now with the perception filter fixed. The door creaked open, the man with the messy brown hair poking his head out of his contraption.

"Oh, we're late, bloody hell!" He cursed, stepping out of the box with the blonde (who had decided to leave her bag behind for this trip) in tow.

"Late for what?" Clara looked around the plaza, at the people gathered around—When she caught sight of the disaster in front of her, her stomach lurched. What on earth had happened here?

"I was hoping to stop all this," the man replied. "I'd only heard there'd been a crash, I'd been hoping to avoid the crash hitting near civilization like this, see. Avert any disasters. God forbid there's been any deaths!"

"What kind of a crash?"

"Oh, you'll see." Stepping out, hands in his pockets, he looked around, eventually making his way towards the front of the building. Clara followed after, watching curiously. The man intrigued her, to be honest; she'd never met someone with such exuberance and vivacity in what he did (granted, her old friend Molly did come close,) and his actions fascinated her in some way.

Upon approaching the door, the two blue-clad guards tensed in their posture. The man simply grinned at them, the smile on his face warm.

"'Ello! I'm here to assess the damage. Take care of everything on the inside, sent straight from the top." The lie rolled smoothly off his tongue with ease, his words quick and precise.

"Right, um—May we see some identification?" One of the guards asked, his frame remaining rigid. The man dug into his pocket, pulling out a little wallet-looking notebook sort of a thing and flipping it open, showing it to both of the guards.

"See? Everything checks out just fine, doesn't it?"

The guards eyed it for a moment, clearly reading it carefully before the man put it away.

"Yeah, it does. Go right ahead, Mr. Smith, you'll want to find the west wing office. That's where everyone will have congregated after the incident."

"Thank you, sirs." Bowing his head respectfully, the man proceeded, Clara shuffling after. Once she was certain they were out of ear shot, she spoke up.

"Mr. Smith—Is that your name? What the guard called you?"

"That? Oh, heavens no, that's just an alias. I'm the Doctor, by the way. That's what people call me. That's what I call me. I still don't know why," he replied. Clara let the name play a number of times in her head, thinking it over. She was quiet for a moment, and he was the one to finally speak up.

"I never did catch your name. No, no—don't tell me, I can guess! It's Sarah, isn't it? You look like a Sarah." He glanced over at her while they walked, warm smile ever present. She laughed blithely.

"No, that's not it. It's Clara, Clara Honorine. Close, though, I suppose."

"Oh, I like that name. It's very French."

At this point, the two had come up on the door for the west wing, and the Doctor turned to Clara.

"Are you ready?"

"Ready for what? It's just a couple of government officials behind the door," she replied.

"Oh, but that's what they _want_ you to think." Without another word, he pressed his ear to the door, listening intently to the conversation on the other side. Tentatively, Clara did the same, eavesdropping on their words like the Doctor beside her.

"Perhaps if I take the form of a newscaster, we can cause enough panic to draw attention away from an escape to London," one of the men behind the door said.

"That's pointless," a woman replied. "The explosion would have caused enough damage. The ship self-destructed, so at the very least we won't have anyone poking around the wreckage and jumping to conclusions. They'll pass it off as a bombing, an act of terror."

"Fair enough." The man's voice seemed tense; whatever was going on, it was clear the woman held some sort of authority over the man, or perhaps was intimidating enough to elicit submission out of him.

Without warning, the Doctor pulled away and threw open the door, Clara avoiding collision with it narrowly as she reared back. The man sauntered in, hands in his pockets and observing the people inside. Besides the two they'd heard speaking, there were two other men, all watching with apprehension.

"Hello! I'm the Doctor. So, what are you then? Shapeshifters, am I right?" Pulling a strange device out of his coat pocket, he seemed to scan the people with it, Clara watching as he read the results on the side. "Oh, I was right! I love to be right. Long way from home, though, aren't you?"

One of the men hissed, and without warning, changed rapidly—His form went to a black, oozing figure, and then suddenly it took the shape and the appearance of the Doctor. Clara was dumbfounded, but the Doctor appeared completely impassive.

"So _you're_ the Oncoming Storm? I must say, you certainly don't _look_ intimidating," the shifter said, and the Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"Really now? Well, I don't see how you intend to compare, all you do is change what you look like. Ooh, really scary, I might as well just give up now!" His tone was sarcastic, but the smile faded from his face quickly. "Why are you here? I wouldn't imagine you'd have any business in Cardiff."

"We don't. We crashed, on a mission. Which we'd like to get back to, if you don't mind," the woman said, her voice tense.

"What sort of a mission?"

"Just some… _diplomacies_ in London, is all. Nothing you'd need to worry yourself over."

The Doctor frowned, eying her. "That certainly doesn't add up—It's the 21st century, no one in London should even be _aware_ of you. And, knowing the… _nature_ of your kind, I'd be willing to wage that you're here to play an edge… Against the government, perhaps? In which case you're likely making an attempt to infiltrate the British Government from the inside. Am I correct?"

Clara and the shifters looked at him, completely nonplussed. A smug grin tugged at the corners of his lips, and he turned to Clara, giving a thumbs up to her. She chucked, still bewildered with the man. Suddenly, the shapeshifter in front of the Doctor, the one that shadowed his figure, began to slow clap. A grimace on his face, he stepped forward.

"Bravo, you are cleverer than I thought. Than us as a collective whole thought, I do believe. And… where does that put you? What _good_ does it do you?"

"Oh, I don't know, it puts me a good step ahead of you, doesn't it?" He shrugged, making a face. "Alright, enough is enough, out with yea." Pulling the strange device out of his coat pocket again, he turned it on—However, instead of scanning the creature, it reduced it back to its seeping form. Flipping the device around in his fingers, he glanced back over his shoulder at Clara, giving a wink. "Good old sonic screwdriver."

The creature, however, was quick on its feet, and began to change its shape into a blonde girl Clara wasn't familiar with. The sight of her caused the Doctor to flinch visibly, and Clara frowned, wondering what the issue was.

"Stop it," the Doctor warned. "Stop it right now; you've no right to use her image like that." Using the device in his hand, he quickly soniced it again, and the oozing form this time became an African-English woman that Clara was, again, unfamiliar with. The Doctor soniced it again; this time, the creature became a red-headed woman, probably a good five or six years older than Clara, and at this point the Doctor was horribly enraged. He wouldn't resort to physical violence, however, and, turning the settings up on his sonic, he cut his losses and soniced it one last time. This time, however, the creature turned into a curly-haired bloke that the Doctor was completely unfamiliar with, and he stood there for a moment, nonplussed.

It wasn't till he heard the audible gasp from Clara hardly a second or two later that it clicked in his head; they were targeting her now, not him. He was harder to break, they'd assumed, only easy to enrage. And he was at his most precarious when infuriated.

A sly grin on the man's face, he stalked over, the creature that had become the spitting image of Charles leaning over at Clara. She was clearly bothered by his actions, by the creature's decisions to use him; a little disturbed, perhaps. Distressed.

"Looking forward to Friday, Clara?" he asked, his tone taunting and cold. Swallowing hard, Clara panicked, and without much thought or judgment, socked him hard in the jaw. The location of impact alone became that sticky, ebony substance that made up the beast in its raw form, and it recoiled, hissing. Without warning, the Doctor grabbed her hand, tugging her out the door as the creatures gave chase and they ran, trying to lose them as quickly as possible.

The corridors of the capital building were long and plentiful, forming a complex maze in which the two got lost together fairy promptly. Eventually they found that, for the time being, they were no longer being pursued, so, rounding a corner and leaning against the wall, took the opportunity to catch their breath.

"Those women," Clara asked, "Who were they?"

It was a moment before the Doctor could bring himself to respond, not only out of exhaustion but out of trepidation as well.

"Old companions of mine," he explained. "They left me, because they had to or because it was better for them. And in the end, I suppose they always broke my heart. There are more of them, of course. So many more brilliant souls that went with me. But those were all the latest ones. I'd actually just recently dropped the red-head off before heading over to Cardiff. A few adventures happened in between, yeah, but you're the first person that's been on board since." He looked over at her. "Her name was Donna Noble. Clever, brilliant, witty and sarcastic—She was my best mate, I'd wager, one of the best I've ever had." His tone was melancholic, his eyes older than she'd ever seen and the expression in them heartbreaking. It was difficult for Clara to bear.

Finally, the Doctor spoke up again, his voice exuberant again, though the age and the despondency lingered in his eyes. "So, that curly-haired fellow. Who was that?"

"An old childhood friend of mine," she replied, looking forward again. "We work together, we're colleagues now. But we were neighbors in primary school till he moved to go to some fancy prep academy. It, um—He's dear to me, in a way, one of the only friends I've ever had."

"I understand that. Those around you become beloved, since it's so easy to become lonely, isn't it?"

"Too easy."

They were silent for a moment more, the only sound their ragged breathing, still wearied from the chase. Abruptly, the Doctor spoke up once more, his speech hushed.

"So those creatures," he began. "They're aliens, from a planet called Gamoor. They're vicious little buggers; I do my best to keep them from humanity till a lot later in the course of history."

"…You're an alien too, aren't you?" Clara looked up at him. "A traveler, of course. Time traveler too, I'm guessing…?"

"Correctamundo!" The Doctor grinned. "Right on the money, actually. We'll talk about my home one day. But right now I think the focus is the shapeshifters, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well—I don't like them, clearly. It's a while since they first really come to Earth. They tried once in the Byzantine Empire, but I stopped them. What a good lot of fun what was." As the Doctor spoke, Clara listened intently to his carefully chosen words and boisterous mood. "The early 23rd century is when the shapeshifters have their first proper encounter with humans. With the Canadian Empire of all people!"

"Canadian _Empire_?"

"Oh, yeah. Canada and Great Britain really duke it out for title of the top empire. Everyone makes in fun of Canada now for staying out of all the wars and having socialism and what not, but just you wait. All that spent creating the world's most developed economy wasn't for naught, it really comes back to bite everyone in the arse." The Doctor grinned. "Regardless, however! The shapeshifters. They use a psychic link on their prey, targeting their insecurities and playing on fears and what not. They usually feed on humans—infrequently, of course, but they still do it. I don't know why they didn't kill us while they had the chance…"

"Maybe they have bigger fish to fry?" Clara suggested. "I mean, you said it yourself, their goal here _is_ likely the British Government."

"Oh! Yes, of course, why didn't I think of that?" A wide grin on his face, he reached over and rustled her hair affectionately, though it took her a moment to fix it. "Clever little girl. _This_ is why I brought you along!"

They were silent for a short moment more, before Clara posed a question. "What happens if we get separated?"

"We find each other, clearly."

"Okay, what if—what if they use that against us? The separation?"

"Oh, don't worry, I've thought of all the things that could go wrong. Should we get separated, use the psychic link to your advantage. The safe-word is 'pears'. I don't like pears; they might as well be an indication for danger!" The Doctor made a face. "If it's just us, I'll ask you for the safe-word to make sure it's you. I'll think of something else the whole time, of course. If it's not, though, use the psychic link to your advantage, like I said, yeah?"

"Right, okay. That works perfectly well."

After a minute, they decided it would be for the best to keep moving, find some way to force the shifters out. The two proceeded down the hallway, though their pace was admittedly slowed from the hasty sprint they'd been in before. As they walked, however, one of the creatures—in its raw, percolating form—rounded a corner ahead of them, and they turned the corner and ran, changing direction. Unfortunately, while the Doctor went left, Clara went right. She took down the hallway with considerable speed, but eventually slowed to a stop when she noticed no footsteps of any kind followed. A panic rose in the pit of her stomach and she frowned, looking around. That shifter might be here any moment, she decided, but she had to go back and find the Doctor. She took down the hallway again, without the haste of her previous stride, but stopped short when the beast came around the corner, spotting her and picking up the pace.

Turning on her heel, she darted down the hallway, regrettably in the opposite direction of the Doctor. It was almost upon her, when thankfully the safe haven of a conference room was in sight, and with the last of her energy, she ran as fast as was possible straight to the double doorways, throwing them open and diving inside. Her only regret was being unable to close and lock them in a timely manner.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: In case any of you were wondering, "Clara" is intended to be pronounced the English way, as "Clah-ruh" and not "Clair-uh". The more you knoooooow uvu

* * *

"So if we turn down this hallway, I think we'll make it to the main security room. That's how it was last time I was here."

Slowing his pace, the Doctor stopped short when he heard no response from behind him. That was odd. As he turned around, he cursed himself at the sight of an empty hallway. He should have known better—he knew he hadn't heard footsteps behind him. He should've trusted his instincts, rather than trusting that he and Clara wouldn't get separated. Companions, always getting themselves into trouble.

Tentatively, he began to walk back down the hallway, but his actions were short-lived when he heard footsteps coming from the opposite direction, behind him. He turned on his heels again, half-expecting Clara to be there, and also half-expecting some shapeshifter to round the corner and snatch him up. Both hypotheses were wrong, however, as a blue-clad guard came around the corner instead, looking completely nonplussed at the Doctor's presence.

"Ah—Hello!" The Doctor eased up, a warm smile finding its way to his face. "You're one of the guards here, aren't you? I'm the Doctor. Um—" He reconsidered his choice of words for a moment. "Dr. John Smith, that is. I was sent straight from the top to deal with the bombing."

"Oh, thank goodness. I'd heard about you," the guard replied. "I'm Thomas. I work just under the head of security here, I was doing a sweep of the hallways… Um, mind if I see some identification?"

"Ah, of course not." Pulling out the psychic paper from before, he flashed it at the guard. The young man studied it for some time, before nodding, giving the proper signal for the Doctor to put it away. He did so, and paused a moment, waiting for the man to offer up his own form of identification; when he didn't, it struck the Doctor as a bit odd, but he brushed it off—After all, it wasn't really his place to be asking for identification, the man was clearly a respectable officer of the law.

"What have you noticed so far, if I may ask? Or, did you not go straight away to the east wing? Did you speak to the officers of state instead?" The guard watched him curiously, awaiting a response.

"Uh—well, no, I went straight to the west wing… It was likely an inside job, to say the least, but I should likely save the rest of the information for the British government till it's declassified…" The lie rolled fairly easily off his tongue. But there was no other choice, of course, he couldn't exactly reveal that extraterrestrials had infiltrated the government.

"Really? What makes you say that?"

"Classified, remember. This is high class government stuff, I wouldn't have been sent here if I ran around blabbing all the Crown's secrets!" Making a face, the Doctor shrugged. That should be enough, the guard should know better than to trifle in the affairs of his highers. But _still_ the man pushed on.

"Did they specifically order for the information here to be classified? I mean, I think I rank pretty high…"

"_Yes_, yes they did." It was difficult for him to keep a calm tone when it appeared Thomas was making a point just to push his buttons. "I'm sorry, but can I see some of _your_ ID?"

"Oh, that's not really necessary, sir."

"Right…" At this point, the Doctor was getting awfully suspicious. He was pretending to be a high authority man of the law, this boy could show him some more respect! Digging around in his pocket, he looked for his sonic. "If you don't mind, I'm going to need to check something." Whipping the sonic out, he set it to a lower "scan" setting and aimed it at the guard and…

Without warning, Thomas kicked the sonic out of his hand. Instinctively, the Doctor backed up as quickly as possible, startled. His sonic laying on the ground a good number of yards away, he eyed Thomas warily, backing away from him slowly as the man advanced upon him.

"That actually tells me everything I need to know, 'Thomas', don't think you did yourself any good!" The look on his face was stern, if only a little cagey.

"But at least I won't have you controlling how I change. At least my actions are left to my own devices!"

By the way the man talked, it was likely the shifter was one of the two in the back. Perhaps one with domination issues, especially considering it seemed that the two in the front were the leaders of the two, despite the woman being the most authoritative all of them. However, the man was anything but cowardly, and he soon grew tired of his own slow advancements and began to give chase, the Doctor stumbling more than turning on his heels and bolting down the hall, looking for an easy escape. He was a considerable distance from the other, and was likely rather safe from being snatched up, from the looks of things. As he passed the point where he and Clara had been separated, he was filled with a small hope that he'd encounter her somewhere along the way, and he could at least gain the advantage of strength in numbers. With another by his side, it wouldn't be hard to outwit 'Thomas.'

To his left, he spotted a pair of grand mahogany double doors, likely those leading to a conference room with a number of different doors and escape routes, or at least vents. If he could get to the vents, he could probably find Clara from above an in the meantime, come up with a plan of retaliation against the shifters below. Throwing them open, he dived inside, quickly shutting his pursuer out and locking them—which was a difficult task, he'd gotten used to doing it with his sonic. Jamming a chair in the door for extra support, he sighed with relief and turned around, taken with shock at those in his presence.

Two identical copies of Clara sat in the conference room, one seated at the table and one standing. And both looked at him, watching completely disconcerted. Suddenly, the one standing piped up, voice laced with palpable panic.

"Doctor, thank _god_ you're here—this one, she's a shifter, she's not me, she's been holding me here and waiting for you to stumble in to trick you," she said, rather alarmed.

"Are you _mad_?" The other directed her words to the standing duplicate, then turned to the Doctor, the expression on her face frustrated. "She's the imposter, I—this is going to end horribly, isn't it?"

The Doctor eyed them both carefully, his eyes calculating. "Right… So I don't suppose I really have a way to tell who's who, do I? What with the psychic link and all…" He thought for a moment, and suddenly a wide grin spread across his face. "I've got it! Remember the conversation in the hall? No, no—don't think of it, just recall what I said! What was the name I first gave you?"

The one in the back gained a look of sudden realization on her face, and the one in the fronted shouted out, without much thought, "Pears!" Wrinkling her nose, she made a face of confusion, turning around at the other. "What?"

Grinning, the one sitting shot up, darting forward. The Doctor, quickly tossing the chairs out of the way and unlocking the door first, snatched up her hand, and while the shifter behind them gave a hiss of anguish, the two bolted out the door, kicking it closed behind them. They ran in the direction from whence they came, and when they came to the crossroads where they were first split up, the Doctor checked around for a moment to make sure 'Thomas' wasn't lying in wait. When he decided he wasn't, they turned around a completely different corner, down a hallway they'd yet to find themselves in yet. Dropping Clara's hand, the Doctor looked around for a moment, hands on his hips as he pondered the surroundings.

"I don't see anything of particular use around here right now," he mused. "I'm not sure how long we can stay out here before we get caught, either…" Moving one hand to his mouth, he rubbed his chin, contemplating. "Want to crawl into the air ducts and see what else we can find?"

"By Cardiff Law, it should be regulation for a fire alarm to be installed and functioning every 30 yards in a government building. So, if we go this way…" Slowly, Clara made her way to the end of the hallway, which cut off into a left and a right turn on each side, failing to continue on. "We're sure to run into a fire alarm on either side of the hallway…" The Doctor looked at her, the expression on his face rather thrown, and when she turned around, she just looked at him, nonplussed. "What? I spend a lot of time on Wikipedia."

Suddenly, the Doctor laughed. "Oh, that's _brilliant_, a fire alarm works perfectly. Who knew that was actually regulation? You learn something new every day, don't you?" Contented, he loped off down the right hallway, Clara quickly following after as he hunted down a fire alarm. Upon finding one, roughly 60 feet down the way, he looked up at it, a little frustrated.

"Oh, bugger, this would be much easier to set off if I still had my sonic screwdriver…"

"What happened to your sonic?"

"I lost it down one of those hallways in a little tiff… I don't trust the guy not to be slinking around there, either, the little rascal!" The Doctor stared up at it, beginning to fish through his pockets.

Admittedly, Clara was concerned that the shifters would get ahold of the sonic, but she let it pass—for now, at the very least. She'd had another question, after all. "What good will the smoke detector do? Won't they know better than to escape from the building and into plain sight so quickly?"

"Water burns them. Kind of like the Wicked Witch of the West, I'd think. But didn't Elphaba trick them into believing that water harmed her when really she was just scared of it to escape death? I never did finish that book."

"Well, in that case, I wouldn't want to spoil the end for you." A little smugly, she grinned a bit.

The Doctor looking quite frustrated in his search at this point, Clara took it upon herself to fish through her jean pockets for something that might be of assistance. Thankfully, she happened to have a little packet of matches on her, the cheap kind you find in hotels on occasion, sometimes in airports.

"Where'd you get that?" The Doctor queried. She didn't seem like the kind to smoke.

"Ah, well, I used to smoke in university, and a few days ago I met up with an old friend, and she handed me these. I guess she never heard I'd quit, and I guess I never threw them out…" Flipping the top open, she pulled one out, and the Doctor shrugged. Appearances could be deceiving, after all.

It took a moment, but after a few attempts, Clara finally struck the match just the right way and got the bugger to light, the orange flame engulfing the tip. Reaching up, she had to get on her toes to reach the alarm, being the rather small stature that she was, and it took a moment to get herself steadied enough to cup her hand around the match, letting the smoke and heat waft up to the fire alarm. However, she still couldn't quite reach, as the alarm was all the way at the very top of the ceiling, and the Doctor took it upon himself to nudge her slightly, getting her attention.

"Here, just hand it to me," he offered, and she obliged, not wanting to make a further fool of herself. He admittedly had to reach up as well, standing on his own toes, but thankfully that did the trick and all throughout the building, the fire alarms began to screech and the sprinklers let loose, dousing the whole building. The match went out with a sizzle in the Doctor's fingers, and he settled back onto the flats of his feet, giving a gratified little smile like it wasn't raining indoors and soaking the two of them.

"Well, that worked well, didn't it?"

Clara stared at him for a moment, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and she just broke out laughing—He soon joined her, of course, and they just stood there looking like mad-men, every inch of them soaked.


	4. Chapter 4

The front door to the capital building opened, and the two walked out amongst the crowed, dripping wet and not thinking a single thing of it. The police and guards were perplexed at first, of course, but the two guards who'd been manning the post when the duo had entered dismissed any suspicions, reassuring that the two were well-respected members of the government sent straight from the top, here to take care of things from the inside. They weren't, of course—they were simply here to help, nothing more—but no one else had to know that.

As they strolled back to the big blue box in the middle of it all, they passed a flummoxed pair of policemen, who were both hunched over something that had been found inside when officials rushed in to find out why the alarm was going off. Just smoke from the explosion, they decided.

Peering over, the Doctor eyed the strange alien device in their hands and smiled a little to himself, like the only person in a group who'd understood an inside joke. He promenaded over to the two, the smile on his face warm and inviting.

"Hello! Dr. John Smith, I'm with Torchwood. 'If it's alien, it's ours', you know how the slogan goes. Anywho, I'm going to need that to take back to headquarters, if you don't mind. Important… wibbly wobbly business, you know. Don't worry about all this, we'll take care of it. I'll put in a word to someone I know the British Government about the whole ordeal. Mycroft, his name is, lovely man! He works straight at the top, he can hand over the case to Torchwood, easy peasy." A smile on his face the whole time, the Doctor's rambling wasn't all for naught, and tentatively, the policeman holding his sonic screwdriver set it in the ecstatic man's hands. "Thank you, Britain certainly appreciates your service. Have a good day, mates." And without another word, he sauntered off, grinning smugly the whole time. He winked at Clara, one of those "I'm actually the best at what I do" sort of winks, and walked off, the blonde following after having watched his whole spectacle.

The door to the TARDIS creaked open as the Doctor pushed the old blue door open, sauntering in with a smile on his face the whole time. It was good to be home.

Hair soaking wet, he ran a hand through it, shaking some of the water out. "You can go change if you want," he said over his shoulder as Clara closed the door. "I mean, I'm sure you want, you're soaked. Just head up the stairs and down the hallway, the wardrobe room is the second on your left. It's huge, I'm sure you'll find something in there." As she started to walk off, he stopped her. "Oh, wait, you might want to dress somewhat appropriately—where do you want to go next?"

"You mean I'm going to come along as a full time companion, then? You're not even going to ask me what I think?"

"Of course, if you want. What do you think?" The Doctor watched her, genuinely curious. She was certainly a dedicated girl, but that dedication didn't exclude her home and work life, the life outside of him, not by any means. Most of her was still a mystery to him—what kind of family did she have, did she have an apartment or a house, was there a boyfriend at home waiting for her? But all the same, he needed someone on board with him. A long while without someone by his side did things to him, and he knew it wasn't healthy to travel alone for too long. He'd have liked to see her come along, she was a valuable companion to have by his side, as he saw from their adventure through the Welsh capital building. He'd like to see more of those adventures. "Would you like to come along?"

She stood for a moment, as though she were contemplating it, though for the most part she was studying and attempting to make sense of the expression on his face. He needed a friend, she knew that. She knew from the moment he spoke so sentimentally about his old companions. "Of course I'll come along," she replied finally, heading up the stairs before stopping at the top and looking down at him. "How does 1817 France sound?"

"Lake Geneva, I'm guessing?" He eyed her, a sly grin on his face.

She beamed; he'd caught her drift. "Exactly." Quickly, Clara bolted off down the hall for the wardrobe room.


	5. Chapter 5

The familiar whirring of engines sounded in the alley, bouncing off the tan bricks of the buildings around the box that materialized in the French alleyway. The door creaked open, the Doctor pushing it open with one hand gently and observing the world around him as he sauntered out, Clara following after. Hands in his pockets, he looked around, humming in contentment at the town. The buildings were lightly colored, delightfully ornamented with balconies of extravagantly curved metal, and windows with delicately shaped panes, often framed by lacy, gently wafting curtains. The alleyway they'd landed in was cluttered with rubbish and garbage, and the two maneuvered around it, peering around in the side street they'd landed themselves in.

It was the Doctor who did most of the leading and exploration; it had been a while since he'd been to France, let alone 19th century France, and he was eager to refresh his memory of the place. "If I'm correct, there's a lovely little restaurant just around the corner from here. If we've landed where I think we have, anyways." He turned back to his companion, smiling. "Want to run off for lunch? Or—Dinner, actually, judging by the sun. What time to do you wager it is? 5 in the evening, I'd say."

Letting him ramble on, Clara nodded her head, quietly agreeing and letting him do his thing. It was fine if he wanted to blather. It was welcome, even; his words were usually kindly and jovial. The Doctor began to wander off, and, in no position to argue, Clara followed, vaguely taking in the scenery around her. It was a pretty town, she had to admit, but she wasn't here for scenery and beauty. In fact, her original intentions in coming here were to hopefully run across an old author, but the splendor of France was good enough for her.

The town was centered around the village square, a large, beautiful fountain at the center of it roughly 12 feet in diameter. Around the square, various shops and restaurants sat, the only flats part of the retail buildings at the very top and likely belonging to the shop owners. That was the kind of place she'd like to own one day, Clara thought, a small bookstore with a flat up top. Maybe in Cardiff, or Glasgow, or maybe Gloucestershire or, dare she venture so far in her wild caprices, perhaps France or even Italy.

The stores certainly were quaint, but the point of the Doctor's desire lay straight across the square, a small restaurant in the corner. There were little chairs and things, of course, tables set around the main restaurant, but the main part of it was a bar—not a pub, but an honest bar, with little barstools and a man behind it working. According to the sign, they didn't serve alcohol there till 6 in the afternoon (a point in time they were fast approaching) but food was, of course, served all day long, and the Doctor knew that, as the restaurant was started by an Englishman, they had a wide variety of foods to appeal to even the pickiest of pallets.

It had been a while since he'd been, but he was certain it was run by the same man. He hadn't been since his 9th regeneration on a trip with Rose, he decided. The man wouldn't recognize him, and there wasn't much he could say, but he trusted they'd get good service none the less. He and Clara strolled up, taking a seat at the bar, and the bartender—whom the Doctor recognized to be the owner—smiled warmly at the two, greeting them with kindness.

"Hullo, mates. Those are some unfamiliar faces—Might I ask where you're from?"

"Britain, actually!" The Doctor answered. "This one's from Cardiff in Wales, and I'm from London—England, of course. And you're from Britain too, I'm guessing, judging by that accent?"

"Yeah. Glasgow, actually, but I was raised in Gloucestershire. So my accent's a little mixed up." The man shrugged. "What can I do for you?"

"Ah, well…" Turning to Clara with a quizzical look in his eye, the Doctor nudged her, prompting her to speak.

"Some menus would be nice, actually, if you don't mind," Clara asked, shooting the Doctor a look before turning back to the owner. Reaching under the counter, he handed the pair of them menus, little paper ones that were worn and yellowed with age, so different from the ones Clara was used to seeing. She looked down at it, reading over the words—they were in French at first, but she attempted not to let it show. The two of them were 'tourists', after all, she should have been able to read the languages of the countries she was visiting. But after a moment, the words grew fuzzy in front of her eyes, and she chalked it up to her own eyes; blinking a couple of times, she stared down at them again to find them in plain, readable English, and bewildered, she waited till the owner had gone into the back to nudge the Doctor and speak to him.

"What happened to the words?" she whispered. "They changed languages, I thought we were in the 19th century—they shouldn't have that technology, should they?"

"They don't," the Doctor replied in a hushed tone. "That's my technology. The TARDIS does it, it just takes a second for her translation circuit to kick in with written word."

"The TARDIS—that's your ship, right?"

"Correctamundo."

"Where did you get it..?"

"I stole her," the Doctor said frankly, looking over at his companion. "I wanted to see the universe, so I stole a box and ran away."

Clara was quiet for a moment, thinking. "Do they have a lot of them where you're from? Ships like that?"

"They did."

"Did they… ban them? Destroy them? What happened—she's not the last, is she?"

"She is." His eyes growing sad, the Doctor turned his gaze away. "We both are."

She wanted to continue asking questions, wanted to know more and understand the mysterious madman with the box, but his expression put her off from the topic. She decided to stay quiet for a while instead, staring down at her menu and picking out something to eat. The gentleman who owned the shop was clearly English, as fish and chips and Shepard's pie and various other dishes she'd had only back home were available on the menu. She settled on bangers and mash, something her father used to make. She did hope the restaurant would do it justice.

As they sat, the Doctor reading carefully over his menu after having pulled out a pair of reading glasses and Clara's eyes wandering off after having decided what to order, the owner spoke with a customer across the bar, cleaning out a glass as he did so.

"So you heard about Antionne, I'm assuming?" The owner asked, leaning over the bar. The man was a frequent customer, Clara decided, based on the friendly nature the barkeep took with him.

"Sadly, yes. What unfortunate news!" The man shook his head, bowing it briefly. He and Antionne must have been close.

"They say it was a bear." The accent of the barkeep clearly shone through in his speech. "Suffocated the poor man. He left behind a whole family, too. Such a tragedy."

"I don't buy it. I saw the body, you know, I was with the search party that found him laying cold out in the woods. There were handprints on his neck, that man was strangled."

"Figures you'd wager murder," the barkeep said with a laugh, attempting to make light of the situation. "You always were a dubious one."

Whispering, Clara leaned in, turning to the Doctor. "Do you hear that? There's been a murder."

"Of course I hear it. I've been listening to every word. You don't buy the bear story either, huh?"

"There were handprints."

"And it's unseasonably late for bears to be hanging around the lake, too!" The Doctor shook his head. "We should treat lightly while we're here. But…" He drew the last syllable out with a mischievous grin. "That shouldn't stop us from having an adventure, right?"

"Are you planning something dangerous, Doctor?"

"When am I not?"


	6. Chapter 6

Dinner had been nice, and the sky was just barely starting to turn a light carroty color in the horizon, evening properly setting in now. The Doctor strolled down the Genevan street, looking around the town with a small grin on his face. It was certainly a nice village; he regretted never being able to explore it further in years past. He'd been once before, and signs had told he'd been there in the past—of course, on that trip he'd landed about 50 years later, and it certainly wasn't out of the question that this was the trip where he took his claim to fame in the small French town.

Clara followed contently behind him, pleased with the scenery around him. The architecture of the buildings was brilliant, true French design. Of course, some of the architecture bore some Italian influence in it, but she didn't pay _too_ much attention to the fact. The town was nice as it was.

A number of blocks ahead of them, a loud commotion could be heard, and, taking a quick approval-seeking glance at Clara, the Doctor took off for the scene, his companion in tow. The upheaval seemed to be coming from one of the upper level flats, and as they approached the building, glass shattered as a large creature threw itself at and out of the window, barreling into the streets below. It was a sickening, ill green color with patchwork flesh, from what Clara could make out, its clothing ripped and torn. Of course, the glass cutting into it and eliciting howls of pain didn't help its case much, either. It threw a quick glance at the pair, the look in its yellow eyes chilling and somewhat frightened as it bolted off for the forest, just a few blocks away.

Up above, in the now glassless window, a woman came to the window, placing her hands gently on the pane—though careful not to cut herself on the jagged glass that lined it—peering out with a heavy sigh, the expression on her face clearly shaken. There was a small tear in the skirt of her dress, hair falling out of the bun she'd pulled it up into. The Doctor, taking notice of the woman, stepped forward, calling out to her.

"Hello! Are you alright?"

The woman looked down at him, her complexion pale. "Um—yes, for the most part, sir, just a burglar, I believe." The tone in her voice gave herself away, however; she knew that wasn't simply a burglar. She'd gotten a good look at the beast herself, after all.

"Would it be alright if we came up? My companion and I, that is. Unless you'd rather come down?" The Doctor's eyebrows furrowed, expression and tone filled with palpable concern.

"I think I'd rather come down, yes. Thank you." She disappeared from the window, and a moment later was found coming down the wooden stairs that lead up to the door of her flat, coming to meet the two.

"Are you alright?" Clara asked. "You're not injured, are you? Did he—did _it_ attack you?"

"Briefly, yes, but in a flight of panic more than anything else, I do believe." The woman bowed her head, distressed. "My name is Mary, by the way. Missus Mary Shelley. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintances."

A brief flash of delight crossed Clara's face, but she did her best to suppress it. This was her, this was _the_ Mary Shelley, and if she was correct, this could have been the untold making of her modern tale of Prometheus in process as they stood there, speaking.

"Oh, the Shelley name is quite renowned where we're from. I'm the Doctor, and this is my companion, Clara. It certainly is a pleasure, as well!"

"Is it?" Mary looked at him, quizzical. "The fame must be accredited to my husband, of course, he always was quite the poet."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," the Doctor mused, shrugging. "So! About that beast."

"It—It was likely just a man, there's no need to jump to particular conclusions."

"Did you see a man, though? Was that the face of a man to you, Mrs. Shelley?"

"I… No—yes, of course it was, anything else can simply be ascribed to shock. I was simply working on a plot for some friends; it took me by surprise…" She shook her head, dropping her gaze. "I'm certain it was just a burglar. That's all."

"Mary, let me make one thing perfectly clear." The Doctor's voice was stern, but warm, uncritical. "With what I deal with, it's never 'just a burglar.' It's never 'a trick of the mind' or 'just seeing things.' Do you believe in aliens, Mrs. Shelley? In the supernatural, the unknown, the impossible?"

"…What kind of a man are you, Doctor? Where are you from? Doctor _who_?"

"Oh, those are questions for another time. For now, would you do me the honor of helping me find that creature? It's dangerous—there's been a murder, as I'm sure you've heard." The Doctor frowned. "I don't think it was a man of this village. I'd be willing to wager that it was that monster you saw."

Mary remained silent, watching, looking rather perplexed with her current situation.

"Listen, Mary…" Clara spoke up, stepping forward slightly. "Look at it this way—even if the creature wasn't the killer, he looked fairly injured to me, and at the very least you'd get the chance to not only help him but you'd get some inspiration for your plot, perhaps?"

"I… Well—Fair enough. And even if it's not some other worldly beast—which, mind you, I don't believe it is—there's a good chance we'll be able to apprehend the man who ravaged my flat. You have a plan of action then, I'm assuming?"

"Plans are for amateurs." The Doctor snorted. "We'll simply hunt it down and play it by ear. There's no need to do stress ourselves out over a 'plan' when anything could change and that whole plan could be thrown out in an instance, is there?"

"That's understandable. I do hope you know, however, that it would not bode well with my husband to find that I was running around hunting down some… _creature_ upon his return from Switzerland. I refuse to spend any more than three days on this pursuit. At that point, Doctor, you and your companion are on your own. I'd rather like to avoid the rest cure, if I may." Having made her point, Mary nodded and, carefully avoiding the glass around her feet, lifted the skirt of her dress from the ground slightly as she proceeded ahead of the two in the direction the creature had loped off in. The Doctor was quick to catch up, as was Clara. Admittedly, her clothing was a little out of the times; women didn't often where trousers in the 1800s, but she'd rather liked the pants with the blouse she'd found, and it was still a more feminine take on men's fashion of the times. At the very least, she didn't look as out of place as the Doctor, who was still marching around in his pinstripe suit and trainers, clothing that was practically unheard of in that day and age.

The cobblestone road they'd taken lead straight to the forest on the outskirts of town—it seemed to surround the town on three sides the way the sea would close around a peninsula, Lake Geneva on the empty side. The forest that surrounded the town was dark and dank, and undeniably rather eerie. It especially didn't bode well with the setting sun, and although the warm orange light cast onto the trees, the light was fading fast and the wood was becoming horridly frightening. However, the trio took their chances as it were, proceeding a little farther into the forest.

They soon reached a point where the trees were sparse, and the town could be seen through the cracks in the trees behind them as the sun filtered through the trees to the right. Old, winter-rotted leaves crunched beneath their feet, black in color as they covered the ground and only adding to the eerie feel of the woods. However, the most concerning part of the small clearing was the undersized spaceship that had crashed off to the side of it, metal crunched around it. It was roughly the size of an escape pod of sorts, and no longer smoldering—the crash had to have occurred up to a week before.

"Well that's distressing," the Doctor pointed out, making his way over to the wreckage. He pulled out his sonic as Clara followed after and Mary remained at the edge of the woods, watching apprehensively as he scanned the ship and studied the readings.

"What does it say?" Clara asked, peering over his shoulder. It was completely impossible for her to make out what it said, however, so she simply started to inspect the debris instead.

"Looks like a Dorian ship," he answered. "Dorian is a planet in the same system as Gamoor, by the way. In the Menkalinan system. Known for their genetic experiments this day and age, I believe… which would explain that patchwork creature we saw."

"I'm sorry, but—_what_?" Mary stepped forward, looking completely bewildered by the two of them, if not a little distraught. "You're speaking absolute nonsense, the two of you. What do you mean, Dorian is a planet? That's simply not possible—the moon is even a mystery to us, and everyone knows that extraterrestrials are just a big hoax." She shook her head. "What on earth are you on about?"

The Doctor grinned a little, though it was a bit more nonplussed at her words than anything. She wasn't the first to attempt to discredit his words. She wasn't the first skeptic, the first to call him mad—in fact, he was certain Clara thought he was mad when he first met her. When he first threw open the door to his TARDIS and looked down at her, going on about staying away from downtown Cardiff and running off, the look in her eyes absolutely screamed "this man is completely insane." But Mary Shelley, of all people, was standing there, calling him mad. The woman who'd dreamed up the fantastic tale of the Swiss scientist who played God and created life, becoming the modern Prometheus. And she didn't have enough faith or imagination to listen to his words without disbelieving them completely.

"What did we tell you earlier, Mary?" The Doctor asked, tilting his head slightly to the side. "Do you believe in aliens? Do you believe in the supernatural, do you believe in the unknown? You never did answer that question. That creature you saw wasn't of this planet. It was from the stars, Mary. So am I."

Mary stood there for a moment; for a brief second, it almost looked as though she was going to say 'yes'. The expression on her face was readable, and for a small moment in time, it said "I believe in all of that." But it changed fairly quickly, her thoughts filled with doubt and a hint of fear, and with a waver in her voice, she opened her mouth to say, "You're completely mad." And with that, she dashed off back through the woods to the town among the outskirts of Lake Geneva.

The Doctor shook his head, turning to Clara. "Stay here, I'm going to run after her. We're going to need her, and after all she's seen, we can't very well leave her without an explanation. She'll be traumatized for life!" Clara nodded with understanding, and the Doctor let a small smile tug across his lips. "Very good. _Stay here_, don't you dare go wandering off!" His expression became rather stern for a moment, and he quickly dashed off, giving chase in the direction Mary had disappeared in, and Clara stood there, tugging the strap of her bag uncomfortably as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.


	7. Chapter 7

Nightfall was descending upon the forest quickly, and as the sun began to dip down behind the trees, an uneasy feeling overtook Clara as she glanced around with trepidation. It would be fine; for a while, at least, so long as the Doctor returned soon. Not much could go wrong in the woods, considering it was too late in the year for bears to be lingering around and, to the best of her knowledge, there weren't many other predators around the woods of Geneva. Wolves, perhaps, though around this time in history most of the wolves must have been hunted out. Or would they have been? She never knew much about the wildlife population around Europe.

A stirring in the brush to her left raised her uneasiness, and Clara craned her neck, watching impatiently for any sign of the Doctor in the direction from whence he left. Perhaps he'd come around a different way, and the stirring in the brush was just he and Mary coming back to meet up with her. That sounded like a perfectly reasonable explanation.

However, that was, unfortunately, not the case, as a large, lumbering creature emerged from the woods. Whipping her head over, Clara moved away from it slightly, her steps wary. It looked almost as shocked to see her by the wreckage as she looked, and she watched it, the creature with the sickly-looking patchwork skin approaching her slowly. A perturbed, fearful feeling rose in the pit of her stomach, and in a rush of fear, she turned on her heel as quickly as possible and sprinted away from the creature. It took a moment, but the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps sounded from behind her, giving chase.

It was the creature's mistake to not pursue her sooner, and she was soon able to outrun it, though the slow plodding of weighted feet could still be heard throughout the forest, the beast unseen. Breathless, she slowed her pace to a hastened walk, her eyes scanning through the constantly darkening forest for a place to hide. Maybe if she waited it out long enough, the Doctor would find her, and get her out just fine. Or perhaps she could stop and recompose herself, and come up with a plan of action to outwit the creature or, feasibly, make an attempt to communicate and negotiate with it.

A small hollow under a tree caught her eye, the area under the roots tunneled out. It didn't appear to be the current home to any animals upon closer inspection, so she decided to slide in, using her feet to stop herself as she skidded into the hole. There wasn't much room to stand, let alone sit straight up, and she was forced to curve with the hollow as she lay in wait, facing the opening and watching the night sky with intent and an honest bit of fear.

* * *

Running as fast as he possibly could, the Doctor tore through the streets, doing his best to close the distance between he and Mary. It had barely been a minute since he left Clara on her own, so he knew he was making good time as Mary was only two or three meters ahead of him. He didn't want to leave his companions in dangerous situations, of course, but sometimes it had to be done—and if all else failed, he knew Clara should be clever enough to at least outwit any adversaries that might pose a threat to her.

As Mary made an attempt to round a corner into an alley, the Doctor was just fast enough to waylay her, skidding along into the alleyway and cornering her against a wall. At the position she was in, he knew she could probably get away by running to his right if she tried, but she wasn't—if only a little, Mary _wanted_ to hear his words, wanted to believe him.

"Mary, listen to me," the Doctor spoke, breathless, his voice full of trepidation and disquiet. "You're the only one we know who's gotten a good look at that beast, the only one who's been around it longer than anyone else—even if it was only a matter of minutes, if even _that_. You're our best chance at finding it, Mary, and don't tell me I'm mad again. I know _damn_ well you believe me, the look on your face says it all!"

"I just—it's simply not possible, not even in this day and age. You simply must be mistaken, there's no way this sort of technology can exist."

"Maybe not on earth, no. The human race doesn't even make it off of earth for another 150 years, give or take. But you're not the only ones out there—so much of the universe is a mystery to you, isn't it? Most of Earth believes they're the only ones out there. Hell, most of Earth is mad enough to believe the universe was made just for them!" The Doctor laughed, some of the ease and exultant nature returning to his voice. "Oh, I do wish you could see what becomes of Earth, though. The aliens really started making their appearances around the 21st century. Granted, some of those were my fault—mind you, _some_—but that doesn't change the fact that it only takes a little bit of time. It _is_ possible, Mary, and it's _fantastic_."

She watched him, listening with intent and a bit of awe, but couldn't find the words to say. Suddenly, the Doctor stood up straight, looking down at her.

"I've got an idea. Can you promise me something?"

"Probably, yes."

"Can you never tell a soul about any of this? I don't mean you can't write about it—have at it, produce all the fictional accounts of it you want! But can you promise to never try to change your own future, never try to expose mankind to what I show you?" Watching her with curiosity, the Doctor awaited a response, studying her expression.

"Of course. Any sane man would think me mad, anyways, there's no way I could even get away with any of that. _I_ still think you're mad."

"Fair enough. Then, will you do the honor of coming on a rather short trip with me? I'd like to show you something."

"Haven't you got the… thing to worry about?" Mary peered around him for a moment. "And where's your assistant, anyways? Where's she gone off to?"

"She's waiting. It won't take long at all, just a quick pop forward in time and a quick pop back."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, you'll see. Come along, then, I'll show you my ship."

"_Your_ ship?" As the Doctor walked ahead of her, Mary followed along. Granted, he had said he wasn't from around here. He had said he was an alien as well. But he looked so _human_, she expected he'd just come from the future, all this talk about time travel. The two wove through the streets, till eventually they reached the alleyway the Doctor had parked his TARDIS in, and Mary looked up at him quizzically.

"A box?"

"A box," the Doctor repeated, as though it was intended to answer her. He stepped forward, giving his TARDIS an affectionate pat, and Mary followed him with apprehension.

"Won't it be a little cramped in there?" She asked, looking it over.

"Oh, I don't know, you'd be surprised." Without giving her a second glance, he opened the doors, stepping inside, and she trailed after him tentatively, stepping inside. As she laid her eyes on the interior of his blue box, however, her breath caught in her throat. It was mad and impossible but amazing, the interior so far out of her time but so beautifully crafted and set at the same time.

She entered the TARDIS slowly, making her way up to the console gradually as she looked around, observing everything about the interior of the ship. As she backed up along the grates, she found herself bumping into the console on accident, and she whipped around, observing the centerpiece as well. What she assumed were wires strung upwards from the controls, and the whole ship hummed with electricity. It was captivating, almost like something out of a fairy tale—though at the same time not, far too out of her league to even be something out of her wildest dreams.

"Lovely, isn't she? Aye, she's my pride and joy, this ship." He patted the console dotingly. "So, pick a number. Preferably one above 2500, that's when all the good stuff happens."

"Um—oh, heavens, I've no clue, what about 3017?" Mary shrugged.

"Oh, good year, I love that one!" The Doctor grinned, pulling a couple of levers. "The Canadian empire took their rise to power in the 3000s, started colonizing all over space. Oh, if you thought the sun never set on the _British_ Empire, just you wait! Oh, and hold on, by the way, she's a bit bumpy."

A bit fearful, Mary gripped the railing next to the console as the ship began to shake a little, almost as though it had started to move. The grinding of engines sounded throughout the ship, and honestly, she'd never seen or heard anything like it, not even close.

The motion soon calmed and the sound died down, and the Doctor stood up straight, smoothing out his suit and turning to Mary. "Not bad for you first trip, huh? Usually she's a little difficult over long distances, but I think she's taken a liking to you, that was awfully calm for a jump of 1,200 years!"

Still a little shaken, Mary fixed her hair and followed after as the Doctor lead walked to the doors, throwing the open and looking around at the setting they'd landed in a bit proudly.

"Mary Shelley, welcome to Starship UK, year 3017. Now, I know you're dressed a bit oddly for the times, but no one will think anything of it, so don't worry. At least they're fashions that people have seen, and we're not taking you back to the 1400s some 21st century garb." Stepping out, the Doctor turned around, beaming at her. "Will you take a look at this beauty? Years of space travel and scientific advancement lead to this—the United Kingdom on one big ol' spaceship. Isn't it something?"

With awe, Mary stepped out of the TARDIS, her pace slow as she took in the new setting around her. Humans and creatures she'd never seen before bustled about, many on high-tech looking velocipedes as they zipped around the artificial streets.

"They still use those?" Mary asked, turning to the Doctor as she gestured to one of the metal contraptions.

"What, bicycles? Oh, yeah, they've used them for years!"

"That's what they call them now?"

"What, bicycles? Oh, that's right, they called them velocipedes back in 1817 still, didn't they? The term 'bicycle' is coined roughly in 1863, I think. The term just stuck ever since." The Doctor shrugged, continuing to walk, and Mary hurried to catch up with him, bewildered.

"Is this what you brought me for?" She asked. "Just to show me the future? What good would that do?"

Shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked side by side with Mary, he strolled at a leisurely pace, looking around. It had been a while since he'd been to Starship UK, and never in this late in its history. It certainly was interesting to see the changes of it.

"Why don't we take a walk, Mary?" he replied, seemingly ignoring her question. "I'd like to show you around."

She'd have liked to speak up and protest, but instead, Mary decided to follow along quietly, studying the Starship intently as she walked with him. The Doctor rambled on quite a good deal, going on about inane details of the ship, but she paid him no attention, too engorged in the enthralling scene around her. Everything was so different, even from what she remembered from Britain—could this really be the future of mankind?

She eventually chose to tune in to the Doctor's words, roughly when he decided to start explaining the variety in species.

"Now see, Starship UK was only supposed to be for the human Englishmen of Earth when it was built in the 29th century," he explained. "Earth was being threatened by solar flares and all. But eventually some legalities went through and there were a number of problems with the terms of citizenship and eventually, they just decided that anyone of any species could apply for citizenship or even get a visa for travel. They were horridly picky from the start, wouldn't even let non-humans have a visa for travel!" He shook his head. "But then, now that citizenship has been loosened up, a whole lot of species live here. I mean, just look around—so much diversity! I'm very proud, it was a huge step for the human race."

"There's so much more than humans here," Mary noted, glancing around. "And they're all sentient?"

"Oh, of course. What did I tell you? Humans aren't the only intelligent life in the universe, you know. And certainly not the oldest, either. Enough species go on for millions and millions of years, in either direction—future or past."

Soon, the block they'd parked the TARDIS at in the first place came into view, and Mary looked up at the Doctor, quizzically.

"We just went in a circle. What was the point behind that?"

"Well, we can't spend all day here," the Doctor replied, "even if you would make an excellent companion. You've got books to write and all, not to mention we've got that creature to deal with. There's simply no time for it today, unfortunately."

"Fair enough."

They moseyed their way back to the blue box, and just as it seemed the Doctor was about to go back in, he turned to Mary, almost cutting off the entrance from her.

"So, the real question is—do you believe me now?"

"_That's_ what all this was about?" Taken aback, Mary scoffed slightly with disbelief. "I believed you the second I saw the inside of that absolutely insane box of yours, you didn't have to go to all this trouble!"

"Oh, I beg to differ, a bigger-on-the-inside box isn't much indication of intelligent life outside of your own planet," the Doctor rebutted. "I _am_ a time traveler, I could simply be an Englishman from the future, nothing more. You had to _see_ it, Mary. And I wanted you to. Not many humans get the gift of seeing the glories of space and the worlds outside their own."

She opened her mouth for a moment to protest his words, but she quickly shut it instead, deciding it would be no use if she did so. He was adamant on his opinions, and no matter how brilliant he thought she was, he likely wouldn't change his attitudes for just any ordinary human.

Slipping back inside the TARDIS, Mary reluctantly said goodbye to the future of the human race and left the space-age fairy tale world behind, allowing the Doctor to return her to her own time and drag her away from it all. As he pushed open the doors for her, a strange, contradictory mix of relief and longing washed over her as she caught sight of the evening venue of her town. They stepped back out of the alleyway the TARDIS had first arrived in, and with a bit of haste in their step returned down the street from whence they came, hastening back for the forest.


	8. Chapter 8

The moon hadn't yet begun to crest the sky, thankfully, though the majority of sunlight had gone in the sky as the Doctor and Mary wove between the darkened trees, returning to the wreckage where Clara was, in theory, waiting and keeping watch for the two of them. They shouldn't have been gone that long, the Doctor had done his best to return the TARDIS merely seconds after they'd left. He'd managed to do the same thing once for Martha, only being gone for perhaps 3 or 4 seconds before his box reappeared in front of her, the familiar grinding of engines sounding. He did, however, take slight pride in the fact that he likely worried her, making her think he was leaving for good.

Upon arrival to the site of the wreckage, the ship was there and almost nothing had been changed from how they had left it—except, however, the absence of the Doctor's companion. A slight panic began to rise in the Doctor chest as he rushed down the acute slant of the clearing, stopping in front of the wreckage and looking around.

"She's not here," he said frankly, pointing out the obvious. Mary nodded, the expression on her face clearly concerned as she lifted her skirt to step down the slope.

"No, she isn't. Is there anywhere she might have gone?"

"Oh, hell if I know, I _told_ her not to go wandering! Why do companions always have to wander?" Visibly frustrated, he kicked the ground, recoiling slightly from the unexpected pain that shot up his leg.

"Our only course of action would be to look for her, then," Mary stated, voice filled with substantial worry. The Doctor nodded, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Right, yeah. She couldn't have gone too far." The Doctor pulled a pocket watch from his pocket and looked it over. It wasn't really good for time telling; that was nearly impossible with all the jumping about he did. Really, he only kept it on him like a timer, a gauge of how long might have passed between certain events. About five minutes into their walk through Starship UK, he'd checked, and on the way back, too—so there was no way they could have been gone from Lake Geneva for more than five minutes, and adding in the conversation with Mary, it would have surprised them if they'd been gone from the site of the crash for ten.

Decidedly, upon closer observation, something had lumbered through the trees to their right, but it based on the direction, it was coming towards the wreck when it arrived.

"In that case," the Doctor decided, "we're most likely to find her—and probably the monster as well, from the looks of it—to the left, in which case we should head east, yeah?"

"Seems like a viable observation," Mary agreed, and the two made their way towards the east of the forest, searching for signs of Clara and the beast.

* * *

Night had descended upon the town and the forest fairly quickly, and the forest above her as Clara lay in the hollow had darkened. The only advantage to it was the lack of light pollution from the sun; the stars were clearly visible from her vantage point, as the 1800s town produced little to no light pollution, and the stars were absolutely _beautiful_ that night. She didn't imagine that it would be like that at any later point in time, certainly not in the 21st century.

In fact, she wondered what would become of Lake Geneva—she knew little about the town past what she learned from her university and independent studies, and that just encompassed the 17th to 19th century history of it. She'd have to research it a bit when she got home. Of course, that stirred a bit of fear in her chest—would she ever make it home?

She was startled out of her wandering thoughts by the snapping of a branch above, and her stomach sank—there was half a chance it would be the Doctor and Mary coming to help her out safely so they could continue with their plan as it was; unfortunately, there was also half a chance that it would be that beast, and this would be the end of it for her. Did the Doctor ever lose companions so quickly? Was the reason he was able to take more with him because he lost too many before he could grow awfully attached to them? Or did he do his best to look after them, keep them safe for as long as possible, but eventually find the need to take new ones along after others had gone because he was in a dangerous position when he was alone?

The leaves on the ground above crunched, a solitary, hulking figure quickly approaching the hollow. This was it—that beast had likely tracked her down by her scent and now she was in for it, because it had found her and she wasn't entirely sure she could do much to survive.

The stars above her were silhouetted as a figure peered into the hole and blocked them out, and she pressed against the soil of the cavity in an attempt to make herself as small as possible. However, as her eyes adjusted and she could more clearly see the sickly-colored patchwork beast, the stitches in the creature's skin protruding, she could also see scrapes and injuries in parts of its scathed skin, its clothing slightly torn and singed. It was injured, and she was willing to wager it never really intended to hurt anyone. Maybe, just maybe, it was acting out of self-defense more than anything else.

Doing her best to repress and hide her fear, Clara let out a wavering breath and made an attempt to sit up a little straighter, needed to lean forward without knocking her head on the soiled roots of the tree above her. The creature recoiled, its expression changing from the mix of anxiety and ire it had been before to a more panicked look, but Clara remained as calm as she could as she slowly pulled herself out of the hole, the creature backing away from her. She wasn't entirely sure it understood English, but communication was worth a shot—and with luck, it would know some language from its prior time on Dorian, and the TARDIS would facilitate some sort of conversation between them.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she assured, raising herself to her knees, her voice gentle as she shrugged her bag off her shoulder and raised her hands in an attempt to show that she had no ill intent. The creature looked her over, its expression softening and its figure relaxing. At the very least, it must have been able to understand some language.

She observed the creature for a moment—it was humanoid, perhaps a little larger than usual, with messy and matted black hair on the top of its head, but its mélange skin had a sickly, greenish tint to it, almost that of someone who'd fallen ill or perhaps had passed away. It was injured, though, scathed and a little beaten. Likely from the shipwreck, she decided. Keeping her eye on it as it watched her curiously, she zipped open her bag and looked for some sort of first aid supplies. It was rather heavy, but she was generally always prepared, and so she usually preferred a backpack over a purse. Every so often she'd switch to a messenger bag of sorts, but it often knotted up her shoulder and tore the muscles, so she usually vouched against it.

"I have some first aid supplies," she explained. "They're rather meager, but I've got some antibiotics and bandages. We can patch up your injuries, that's a start, right?" She gave a small smile to the creature, and it did its best to return it, causing her to laugh a little. Moving forward, she started to fix it up the best she could, wrapping its scrapes in gauze after treating it with a bit of Neosporin. For the most part, everything seemed to be looking up; some communication had been established, it seemed to trust her for the most part, and she was helping it along. Despite not necessarily being a part of the originally established plan, this was good. It was progress.

However, the progress was quickly interrupted as the woods to their left were disturbed, the shrubbery and branches being rustled. The creature looked up quickly, its head shooting towards the direction of source of the disturbance like a frightened animal. A small bit of panic began to twist in Clara's stomach, the fear of the creature darting off or, worse yet, being attacked taking over.

But instead of angry villagers, what emerged from the shrubbery was thankfully just Mary and the Doctor, her travelling companion in a pinstripe suit calling out to her, his voice filled with palpable concern. With a bit of work and a little luck, Clara could likely straighten things out with the creature and convince it to let them take care of it. However, filled with fear, the creature was quick to abscond, darting to its feet and tearing through the woods to get as far away from them as possible.

"Wait!" In vain, Clara called out to it, though deep down she knew the creature wouldn't halt for her—it was too afraid for its own life. Clearly upset, she stood, frowning as the two rushed over to her, rushing to make sure she was alright.

"You're not injured, are you? What did I tell you about wandering?" Despite being clearly worried, the Doctor's tone grew rather stern at the end of his words, a frown crossing his lips. However, visibly frustrated, Clara turned to him and smacked him upside the back of the head. Not enough to really hurt, of course, but more in the way a mother would to reprimand a child that didn't quite think before acting, that had done something wrong. Letting out a small noise of discomfort, the Doctor winced, rubbing the back of his stinging head.

"What was that for?"

"You scared it off, you shouldn't have rushed in so rashly!" she reproached, scowling. "It's scared and injured and this is exactly why no one's been able to help it yet!"

"Well, no need to get violent about it," the Doctor muttered, rubbing the back of his head.

"Were you able to communicate with it?" Mary asked, stepping between the two.

"A bit, yeah. It clearly knows some form of a language, I was able to speak to it and it understood me fairly well. I'm not sure how easily it's able to speak, however," Clara explained. "It didn't say a word to me the entire time."

"Well, if we can find it again, we can always determine if it can speak a language. It should, after all, if it can understand when you spoke to it," the Doctor replied, nodding. "I actually think we ought to split up to search for it."

"Are you certain that's a good idea?" Mary glanced back in the direction the creature had loped off in, frowning. "It's frightened, it's likely to injure us, isn't it?"

"I think it simply responds how it thinks it should respond," Clara mused. "I mean, it had a more vicious disposition towards me when I showed fear towards it than when I didn't. But at the same time, that's not to say that you should be aggressive—it's still scared, suggesting that we intend to hurt it is just going to aggravate it more."

"She's right." The Doctor rubbed his chin, thinking. "I mean—if you were in unfamiliar territory with a species not your own, wouldn't you react aggressively if someone took up a threatening disposition with you?"

"Fair enough," Mary replied. "We'll cover more ground split up, as well. And there's strength in numbers—that might frighten the creature further."

"That's true. So, Mary—I want you to head back to town and check your flat in case it returns there. And also bring some supplies back to the site of the wreckage, if at all possible. Actually…" Diving his hand into his coat pocket, the Doctor dug around for a moment before pulling out a key. "Take this key to the TARDIS and get some supplies from there instead. There should be a box with some tools you'll likely find unfamiliar as you enter, a few yards from the door. Just take that box and bring it back, if you will. Don't go wandering about the TARDIS, though. Don't touch anything else, and _don't_ lose this key. Okay?"

Mary nodded, taking the key and hurrying off back towards the direction they'd come from. The Doctor turned back to her.

"And you, Clara. I'd like you to hunt it down with me. Well, not _with_ me, I'll just be searching for it separately, of course. But I want you to go and do the same. You've had the most communication—have you any idea where it might have run off to?" The Doctor asked, though she just shook her head.

"Unfortunately, no, I'm sorry. It didn't speak to me at all, remember? And, on top of that, its body language wasn't much indication for anything," she replied, frowning. The Doctor nodded in understanding.

"Right, yeah. Well then, you're about as well off as I am, essentially. Good luck then, yeah?"

"Yeah. You too. Don't… die or anything." Clara made a face, but the Doctor only laughed.

"I actually think that death is the least of my worries, to be perfectly honest."


	9. Chapter 9

The light from a flashlight she'd grabbed from her backpack illuminated the dark forest floor as Clara walked, sneakers crushing the darkened, winter-rotted leaves below her feet. It had felt like a good thirty (perhaps forty) minutes since she'd left the Doctor—at least, by her internal gauge of time, which she'd be willing to wager was rather good—and still she'd found no sign of the creature that had escaped her. She'd been so _close_, almost able to help it. She'd made good progress in communicating with it, too, but unfortunately she was unable to keep hold of it. She let out a wavering sigh as her thoughts wandered, rather disappointed in herself. There was very little she could do for it in the first place with her skill sets, she decided, and she still wasn't even able to manage that.

Compared to what was in the small range of scope of the light that poured from the torch, the rest of the forest was rather pitch black and it was practically impossible to see anything. She'd hoped it was due to the fact that the flashlight rather killed what night vision she had, and on the Doctor's end, there wasn't much need for a torch—or, if there was, he'd been able to run back to the TARDIS to find one. Of course, even with the light, it was becoming painfully clear to Clara that she was, in fact, lost in the forests of Lake Geneva.

Frowning, she paused in her stride, looking around at the forest around her for some sort of familiar sight. There was a large rock formation to the east much akin to the foothills of a mountain that had, as she recalled, stretched from very close to the point of the forest from whence she had entered—but, from the looks of it, as she walked right alongside it now, she must have traveled a good 40 or 50 yards to the east from when she'd started.

Suddenly, the light of the torch began to flicker as the batteries began to die, and Clara cursed the light under her breath, smacking it against her hand as the light started to go out. It helped, thankfully, as the light became more stable upon each impact, till thankfully it stayed that way, though there was no telling how long the batteries would last. It was time to put it away, she decided.

After flicking it off and shoving it into the side pocket of her bag (though it took a few attempts,) Clara found herself needing to pause there, blinking a couple of times and trying to get her sight back. As she stood there, waiting for her night vision to return, a rustle in the brushes coming roughly from the direction of the shingly tor. A small bit of fear began to rise in her stomach; the creature trusted her, but by no means did that revoke its status of eminent threat.

Her vision had just begun to come back—and what a blessing it was, too, as panic began to take hold. She turned to her left, looking over the tor with curiosity as she searched for the source of the noise with intent. It wasn't completely apparent, which put a bit of a damper on her search. It was nearing midnight at this point, she decided, based on the position of the moon. And that, of course, meant she was running out of time. It had been hours since she met Shelley and all this began, and it felt like she'd made no progress at all. That wasn't true though, really; she'd been able to communicate with it, gain some trust, but at the same time, it still _felt_ like nothing.

It would take some closer inspection to the knoll, she decided, to determine what the cause of that noise was, but it wasn't as though it would be a waste of time, thankfully. Judging by the noise, the source of it must have been large, and the creature would be the only especially large thing out here. Moving over with precaution, she laid a hand on the rock of the tor, gently running her fingers along the craggy surface as she proceeded north, more towards the source of the sound. She moved quietly, slowly approaching the bushes where it had emanated from, apprehension taking hold, when suddenly—

A deer sprung from the brushes, leaping away in fright of the approaching figure.

Admittedly, Clara had jumped; the sudden movement and the speed of the deer had startled her, and in her uneasy, edgy state, it scared her, even. Letting out a wavering breath, she put a hand to her chest in a small gesture, an insignificant attempt to calm her rapidly pounding heart. It took a moment for her to calm down, but as she reassessed her surroundings, she certainly was glad she'd come this way—a messily created curtain of bushes and branches had been placed in front of a cave entrance in an attempt to conceal it, with a small crack where someone (or something) had likely been entering and exiting at the side. The whole thing, however, was quite cleverly concealed by the trees and forestry around it, and a passerby would think nothing of it. Commending the creator of this shelter, who was likely the creature she was searching for, she stepped forward, observing it a bit more before properly approaching it.

Tentatively fingers pushed the fauna aside, and the moonlight flooded into the cave, illuminating it as much as it could. It wasn't a rather impressive cave, being rather shallow for a cave—only two or so yards deep, perhaps. It was adorned with various items she'd assumed had been stolen from the town, such as half eaten food and a couple of blankets lain on the ground. And on those blankets (in fact, even under a few of them) was the very creature she'd been chasing. She eyed it carefully for a moment as it slept, evaluating the situation it was in from where she stood, till it began to stir, and she realized the moonlight flooding in had startled it from its slumber.

The creature stumbled up drowsily for a moment, dragging itself to its feet with a drunken-like stumble as it ambled. It was a clumsy creature, decidedly, likely from its extraordinary size and stature. However, if Mary's future account of the tale and the Doctor's own words were any indication, it was likely working with a blank slate for a mind, and didn't have decades to perfect the mechanics of its movements.

As it set eyes on Clara, a low growl rose in the back of its throat, its stance becoming quite aggressive as its eyes worked to adjust. Clara stiffened, fear boiling in the pit of her stomach, but as the creature's vision adjusted out of its sleepy haze and into the dark around it, recognition flashed on its face, and its posture loosened, though the expression on its face was admittedly wary. Letting out a sigh of relief, Clara entered the cave, albeit cautiously—it wouldn't do to startle and frighten the creature again.

As the creature sat, settling itself on the floor, Clara kneeled in front of it, watching with mindful eyes. The apparent hesitant nature she took made the creature grow a bit uneasy, quite visibly in fact, and she did her best to relax herself as she dropped her bag to the ground. She turned her gaze from it, unzipping her backpack and digging through it, relying mostly on feel in the darkness of the night.

Without looking up in her search, she spoke. "Can you speak? I know you understand me."

"I… speak a little." The words rolled clumsily off the creature's tongue, and she knew communication would be a bit of work with the creature, as its knowledge of English—or whatever language it was, knowing the nature of the TARDIS's translator—was clearly a little shallow.

"That's good to hear, it'll make communication a lot easier." She glanced up at it before returning her gaze to her bag, fingers locking around the box of bandages. "What's your name?"

"I don't have a name, do you?"

"Uh- I do." It broke her heart a little, thinking that no one could ever care enough to give the creature a name. "I'm Clara."

"Clara is a nice name," the creature replied. Clara pulled out the rest of the first aid supplies she'd been looking for, and looked up to the creature.

"Can I finish patching you up? Is that okay?"

The creature nodded and she scooted forward, starting to finish up with what scrapes she could find. Eventually, she spoke up.

"What happened to you?" she asked. "The ship over there is yours, I'm assuming. How did you get here?"

"People made me," it began, and though the look on its face grew wary for a moment, the creature started to tell its tale.

The scientists of Dorian (whom the Doctor had pointed out were known for their genetic experiments, Clara recalled) had been running a number of experiments on the reanimation of dead flesh, wondering if their race could be recreated at all. The creature was one of many of the earlier experiments, which reused dead corpses. Evidently, they were not kind hosts, however, treating the character like an animal, a test subject—which, presumably, that's all it was intended to be: an experiment. The creature grew bold enough to run one day, however, when a number of other subjects began a riot and cause panic and discord in the labs. The creature was, thankfully, clever enough to find the smaller ships, after following a few of the more cowardly scientists, and hopped into one.

The navigation system was easy to work—used imaged rather than text, for the most part—and, picking the most amiable-looking planet it could find nearby, it set its course for Earth, living in the small ship for many days till it arrived. However, unable to properly land itself, the ship tumbled across the land of the clearing, crashing—though, as one last service to its pilot, the ship did manage to make the crash as easy to survive as possible, cutting back as much damage as it could.

The creature stumbled around the outskirts of town for a few days, afraid to approach the citizens; while they were smaller (as it seemed the creature, who would likely be classified as a small giant on Earth, was averagely sized for the Dorian race) the humans still looked much like the Dorians and, admittedly, scared him. And for good reasons, too, as it scared the humans and by nature, the humans reacted aggressively, as modeled by one human who stumbled upon the creature just outside of town when it strayed too close. In a panic, the man—who was Antionne, Clara eventually decided—grew belligerent and attacked the creature. Terrified, the creature reacted in self-defense, but in the end wound up killing the man. Petrified by what it had done, it fled out deeper into the forest, stumbling upon a small cottage.

The tenants of the cottage were a young girl and her father—the mother was never mentioned, and Clara assumed she didn't live with the girl and her father. The creature hid between the house and the northern end of the tor that it had been built against, watching through a crack in the wall as the man and the girl interacted in the evenings. He learned some rough English when the man read to her, as the man seemed to come from a place called Glasgow (the man, Clara later construed, being the keeper of the restaurant) and wanted to raise his daughter on both languages.

One afternoon, while the man was away at town, the creature accidentally met the girl, but she took rather kindly to him, rather than what he was expecting, and began to teach him English and showed him little customs. ("It was the language the scientists spoke," the creature had said, "so I started to understand my situation a little better.") The girl had shown it its first real kindness in its life, looking past his appearances—she herself was rather peculiar, it decided, rolling around in a metal contraption, a wheelchair, and thus had likely seen the creature similarly to how she saw herself, in some way.

However, the creature stayed too long one evening, and the father, completely aghast at the creature, chased it away and, having nowhere else to go, it hid in the cave they were sat in as they spoke. The next day, it snuck into town, stealing supplies and things from town. However, two people—who, by the voices, the creature now recognized to be Clara and her friend—rounded the alleyway it was in and it was forced to run up to the flat above, where it broke in. The tenant turned out to be none other than Mary, and, terrified of it, darted into the kitchen and snatched up a knife, throwing it at the creature and grazing its creature. Of course, at this point, it was equally as scared, and threw a chair at Mary before jumping out her window, shattering the glass and running off.

"I thought that, because people were so scared of me, there must be a reason. I must be this frightening monster," it explained. "No one had ever shown me any kindness, so I figured there was no reason to. But _you_, you didn't show that fear like I had expected, so I hesitated. And for good reasons, too, it seems!"

"You were injured and, to the best of my knowledge, just as frightened as I was. I had to do _something_— I had to at least _attempt_ to help you out. And if I died because of it, well, I don't think there's any way I'd rather go than trying to take care of a wounded soul." She shrugged slightly and dropped her gaze as she put away the supplies, a little flattered that it regarded her so kindly.

"I'm glad I didn't kill you, I think your friends would have been awfully sad."

"Who, you mean—" Clara looked up, a little surprised. "The Doctor and Mary? Well—I mean, it's human nature to be sad when an acquaintance dies, but that's all Mary and I are, acquaintances. But…" As she considered the Doctor, she frowned, voice faltering a little. "I don't think it would have been very good for the Doctor to lose anyone else."

"The Doctor is a rather sad man, isn't he? Someone who's seen a lot of hurt?" The creature watched her with intent, but she just smiled sadly.

"He is," she replied, patting his arm, "but with luck, I can help him, the same way I've helped you."

The creature gave a sad smile. "There are stories on Dorian about a man named the Doctor. He ravaged his own people and now he travels the universe, running from his past and the tragedy that follows him everywhere he goes."

Clara's face dropped, and she found it impossible to even feign a smile, but the creature continued on anyways.

"But at the same time, he's a man who gave up everything he had just to save the universe, and now he takes clever young souls to see the stars, saving everyone and everything he can."

Her expression faltered for a moment, but eventually a forlorn smile spread across her lips. "That sounds about right," was all she said, standing and hoisting her back over her shoulder.

"Are you leaving?"

"Momentarily. I'm going to find the Doctor and Mary. The Doctor would do good to know that I've found you, and we're going to fix your ship and help you out of here."

"To where?"

"I don't know yet. But I imagine the Doctor does."

"You'll come back, right?" Frowning, the creature stood, watching her.

"Of course I will." Nodding, she did her best to put on a reassuring smile before slipping out. "Take care, yeah?"


	10. Chapter 10

It hadn't been too horribly hard to see around the forest, as with the full moon of that night, the dim silvery glow that had been cast on everything illuminated it a little, but in the end, it was rather impossible to navigate the forest in the dark, the Doctor decided. He wasn't going to get anything done, and at any rate he was sooner going to get attacked by that creature and forced into regeneration than anything else. And what a shame, too—he'd been hoping not to regenerate with Clara so soon, it would be nicer to spend a good deal of time with one last companion before meeting his own tragedy.

Sighing, he pulled his sonic from his pocket as he slowed his steps to a halt, scanning the surroundings for any sign of humanoid life. It did yield one result, one that his sonic identified as "rapidly approaching"—a sense of dread fell over him, until he finished reading the results. "Small". Well, that was just flat-out confusing—the creature was a small giant on its own, at least six foot seven and probably around 275 pounds.

A small light in the corner of his vision caught his eye, and he turned, spotting a vivid white light rapidly approaching him. He stood there like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment, completely nonplussed, but as soon as the figure was in proper view, relief washed over him and a wide grin spread over his face at the sight of Clara.

She stumbled through the brush, running like a madwoman and finally finding herself in front of the Doctor, where she flicked off her torch and leaned over, hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. A hearty laugh emanated from the Doctor, and she couldn't help but let out a soft, breathless laugh herself, breathing ragged.

"You didn't have to run, you know, you numpty."

"Oh, shut up." Heart pounding and lungs still hungry for oxygen, Clara managed to stand up, running a hand through her hair and fixing it. "If I hadn't you'd be out here all night."

"Did you find it?" The Doctor asked, hopeful, and Clara nodded in response, eliciting a wide grin from him. "That's brilliant!"

"Glad you think so. We ought to head back to the ship, work on fixing it up as quickly as possible. I promised I'd be back in a relatively timely manner, and I do intend to keep that."

"You really took a liking to that creature, didn't you? All eager to help it and what not." A warm smile tugged at the corners of his lips—she was making friends already, that was good. Compassion was certainly something he looked for in a companion.

"Well—I mean, I suppose so." She scratched the back of her head, shrugging. "He was _hurt_, and just as terrified as I was, it was kind of hard not to want to help him out."

The Doctor stood there for a brief moment, thinking, and then clapped his hands together. "Right, okay, we'd better head back. The only problem is I'm not entirely sure how to get back. I mean—I'd assume that if we just head north then we'll hit the town and it shouldn't be hard to navigate from there at all, but…"

"Don't sweat it, I've got it. If we go east there's a large tor, and if we go along that to the north till it takes a particularly strong curve, then in theory we can just head west and run straight into the town, if I'm correct." Mentally working out the path, Clara began to speak with her hands, working the whole thing out for him with her hand motions.

"Well then, if you're correct, that sounds like a perfectly reasonable set of directions." With a grin, he raised his eyebrows. "Ready to go?"

"Of course." Clara flicked the torch back on, knowing full well she could likely get batteries from the TARDIS when they returned.

"Well then—Allons-y!"

Dawn was just starting to round the bend, the sun rising up from above the trees and the tor in the distance of the eastern horizon, and quite frankly everyone was completely exhausted. Plenty of progress had been made overnight on the ship, however, and while it took a lot of soldering and a bit of welding and some of stuff Clara has never seen before, they'd eventually managed to get the ship up to the point where they could repair its self-repair module, and the rest was up to the clever mechanics of the ship.

Everyone had stopped to clean themselves up after putting all the tools away—while Mary had remained rather spotless, Clara and the Doctor had gotten a good deal of grease and mechanical dust on their hands and arms, though thankfully had managed to avoid soiling their shirts, for the most part. But it was all worth it in the end; the ship was in top shape and everyone was rather proud of their work.

Yawning, Clara rubbed her eyes, looking down at the fully repaired ship.

"I'm rather proud," she said, drowsy. "It only took six restless hours of working through the night till the sun shone."

The Doctor chuckled. "Oh, I'd say we did wonderfully. Mary, do you want to stick around for the farewell, or would you rather head home and start catching up on that rest?"

"I think I'd rather like to see this whole tale out to the end, if you ask me. It's like leaving the last page of a book unread," she replied.

"Oh, I always tear the last page of a book out, though. That way it doesn't have to end."

"That's awful," Clara chastised. "Every story has to end. If they don't we never really get everything they were intended to bring us."

The Doctor let out a laugh, but the sound rang out with a sad tone, one that stirred a slight feeling of dread within Clara. "Fair enough," he replied. "Right, so, Clara—would you run off and get him? I mean, the creature; it just feels awfully rude to call him that."

"No, it's fine," she dismissed, waving her hand. "I'd be happy to." Turning on her heel, she started off for the tor, doing her best to remember exactly where she found the creature's cave. It had been dark, but she was fairly certain that if she simply headed due east and then continued south she'd find it, as she'd been south of the crash site when she stumbled upon his shelter.

It did take a while, of course—about 20 minutes, she thought, though her sense of time was likely off from the exhaustion of that night—but she reached it, she found the cave, clearly illuminated in the morning light. She was slightly hesitant to pull back the flora that shrouded the entrance; it felt like an invasion of privacy, but she couldn't exactly knock, either, so she cut her losses and pushed it back to find the creature laying on its back, staring at the ceiling in a half-awake sort of doze. She figured the morning light had woken it up, and as the same light flooded the cave, the creature sat up, features brightening considerably upon seeing Clara. She gave a small smile, stepping in tentatively.

"We did it," she told him, voice quiet. "We fixed up the ship. She's flight ready."

"Where do you mean to send me?" the creature asked, standing up and brushing the dirt from its clothes.

"Gamoor, the Doctor said. A neighboring planet to Dorian that usually helps out Dorian refuges. There's probably more people there like you—you'll fit in just fine."

"Gamoor… the name seems a little familiar."

"That's good. Are you ready, then? Because we're able to send you off whenever you are."

"There's nothing here that means a lot to me," he replied. "So I guess so, yes."

"Right. Come on, then."

Carefully, the Doctor help to strap the creature in to the ship, securing everything.

"So, we've set the coordinates for you already," the Doctor explained, gesturing to the screen intended to be a control panel that sat on the dash right in front of the seat in the cramped vessel. It was a small ship, almost like an escape pod. Or a smart car.

The creature nodded, watching as the Doctor showed him all the little intricate workings he'd figured out, Mary and Clara standing about a yard back and watching the two.

"So, I suppose, that's everything, then." The Doctor stood, smoothing out his suit and smiling down at the creature. "Are you ready to go?"

"I guess so, yes."

"Oh, wait—before you go…" Clara stopped the two, dropping her bag to the ground and rooting through it for a moment. She pulling out a book with a while cover, a man lying down with a glass of wine in his hands, the words 'Good Omens' clearly printed on it. Kneeling down, Clara leaned over the edge of the ship. "The Doctor said that the planet of Gamoor speaks primarily English this day and age… This book won't be written for another 200 years, I'm sure you'll appreciate the sneak peak. It'll help you with learning English, as well." The creature took the book gratefully as she handed it over.

"Thank you," he replied. "It will be a great help."

Giving one last small smile, Clara stood, backing up as the Doctor shut the door to the hull and the three sent the creature off to a safer haven than Earth.

* * *

**A/N**: I'd just like to say, quick shout-out to MayFairy, who has been my most faithful (and only) reviewer yet. Don't be shy to leave a review if you want, by the way, I do really appreciate the feedback.

By the way, two little notes-  
I might change the story cover to be Yvonne Strahovski, my chosen faceclaim for Clara (which, if you're a fan of Chuck, you'll likely recognize as why I had the Doctor guess her name was Sarah at first uvu)  
And, I'd also like to attribute the shapeshifters to a friend of mine (we know each other from Flipnote Hatena but her deviantART is doctor-major, if anyone's interested.) She came up with the original concept, and granted I've changed and developed it a bit for various stories, but they're still her idea. (I'm also going to add a character of hers in a little later, and make some mentions to characters of a friend of ours. So that'll be fun.)

Sorry for the long author's note. But I don't do them often and you know you love me anyways ouo


	11. Chapter 11

"And… that should be the last of it, I do believe," the Doctor said, brushing his hands together and dusting them off as he entered the room, a blithe smile on his face as he watched the two girls chatting away in the living room of Mary's flat. While he'd been cleaning up the mess in the kitchen from the shattered chair, they'd been putting all the books and papers back in the proper places; earlier, Clara and the Doctor had even slipped off for a bit to retrieve a new window for the flat as well, and as far as anyone could tell, nothing especially out of the ordinary had happened in the flat the past day or two.

"Thank you so much for helping me fix up around here," Mary thanked, bowing her head slightly. "You didn't have to, but it certainly means a lot."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," the Doctor dismissed, waving his hand. "It was the least we could do, especially after dragging you about through all that."

"I was more than happy to help, you know." Mary smiled as the Doctor flopped down into one of her chairs, dropping his arms on the armrests.

"So what have you girls been up to? Looks like cleaning in here went rather fast, you must have kept yourselves occupied."

"We did." Clara nodded, tugging her boots off and pulling her legs up under her. "Just talking, for the most part. About books and writing and little things like that."

"Ooh, exciting."

Hesitating before she spoke, Mary's expression faltered slightly. "I… Clara, I was actually going to ask you if you would mind telling me the creature's story. Assuming it told it to you, that is…"

"Uh… yeah, he did…" Clara shifted, slightly uncomfortably. "I suppose I could…"

"I was thinking of putting it into that ghost story," Mary explained. "Unfortunately, I would have to vilify the creature—it would be necessary to make a good ghost story, after all…"

"That shouldn't be a problem—most of its story would need to be changed anyways, I should think…" Fiddling with her thumbs, Clara frowned slightly, biting the inside of her cheek. And she began to tell the tale, about how the creature escaped from its creators (and oppressors) to Earth and made its way and in the end met the Doctor, where it would eventually find peace on a planet far, far away.

Mary listened with intent, scribbling words into the journal of hers she'd had every so often. It seemed she'd sketch things out, and by the time her story was over, Clara was certain a number of pages of the notebook were filled. The Doctor had even settled down in the chair, listening with fixation as she spoke. He'd known it was bad on Dorian; he'd been once, though it was about 300 years after these events at Lake Geneva went down. He had no idea it was _this_ bad at a point in time.

"Right…" Rubbing his chin, he sat straight up when she was done talking, frowning. "I think I'll need to pay a little… visit to the government of Dorian at some point," he noted, frowning.

"Oh, do be polite, they're just _people_, you know," Clara reminded.

"Dully noted. But remember, 'polite' and 'lenient' are not synonymous."

"Fair enough."

Mary chuckled at the banter of the two, as the Doctor stood himself from his chair, stretching. "Right, well, we ought to slip off, let you get back to life as it was." He shot a warm smile to Mary, who stood, extending a hand to shake, which he firmly took.

"I do hope you'll stop in again at some point. Both of you—it's been an absolute pleasure, and I'm sure my husband would love to meet you."

"Of, but of course!" The Doctor glanced back at Clara. "You'd want to stop back in, yeah? Maybe after Mary's a big-shot author."

"Oh, I think you give me too much credit, Doctor." Mary laughed, shaking her head, but Clara only dismissed it.

"Oh, I think that would be excellent! Maybe after she publishes her next big novel."

"Or two, we might as well give her some breathing room."

"But we'll have to make sure we get the right address; I'm sure she'll be living in some extravagant estate in Switzerland by then."

"Oh, hush, you two," Mary laughed, shooing the two towards the door. "Start heading out, I'm sure you've got plenty of travels ahead of you. You'll probably want to get your rest—aren't you exhausted?"

"Yeah, alright, fair enough, it's been a rather long night." The Doctor shrugged, making a face.

"Sleepless, at that," Clara agreed.

"Alright. Do remember to drop in, then, sometime in the future. Perhaps for Christmas later this year. That would be lovely, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, certainly. I always wind up having trouble finding a place to drop in on Christmas," The Doctor replied.

"It's settled, then, we'll remember to set two extra places at Christmas, then," Mary said.

"Oh, you don't have to do _that_…"

"No, I certainly don't have to, I want to. We'll be expecting the two of you."

"Oh, fine, fine, fair enough." Sighing, the Doctor flapped a hand in dismissal. "We'll be seeing you, then—we'd best run off, let you get your beauty sleep. And catch some sleep ourselves."

"Oh, of course. It was lovely having the two of you, please do drop in again."

"We will, don't worry." Clara gave a warm smile, knowing she'd be help up to her words.

"Right. Run along you two, have fun."

* * *

"Alright then!" The Doctor threw open the doors of the TARDIS, sauntering in and up to his console and leaning against the railings with a yawn. "Well, that was quite an adventure. How was that for your first proper voyage?"

"Oh, absolutely lovely." Joining him up at the console, she swung her bag over her shoulders and began to dig through it. "It was such a treat getting to meet Mary, we'll have to do something like this again. We'll be stopping in for Christmas dinner, right?"

"Probably. It doesn't even have to properly be Christmas. We can just show up whenever, as long as to them it's December 25th, 1817." Pushing off from the console, the Doctor started for the hallways. "For now, I might as well show you-"

"Uh oh."

He stopped short, turning around. "Uh oh?"

"Um…" Tentatively, Clara looked up at the Doctor, pulling out a book from her back that looked too dated to be from her time. "On a scale of one to ten, how much trouble would I be in if I accidentally switched copies of Paradise Lost with Mary Shelley?"

"On a scale of one to ten, you say?"

Clara watched him with anticipation, a slight panic rising in the pit of her stomach.

"I'd say about a two," the Doctor finally replied with a laugh, and relief washed over her. "I mean, really, the worst that could happen is someone stumbles across it, and Mary's smart enough to keep something like that away from prying eyes. Don't sweat about it."

She laughed in response, though her voice was slightly tight, like that of someone recovering from a big scare.

"Okay, so long as it's fine."

"It's not as if the book is ahead of her time and could potentially be giving away spoilers or anything of the like," he continued. "I mean, it's just a newer copy of an older book."

"Doesn't Mary use a lot of Paradise Lost to influence Frankenstein?" Clara asked, curious.

"She does. It's even a big part of the canonical story."

"Right, that's what I thought."

"So." The Doctor clapped his hands together, and she followed him back up to the hallways as he began to walk. "I suppose it's time to show you to your room. I mean—the TARDIS has plenty of rooms, so this one will be specifically yours."

"You mean, you've got all of your old companion's rooms, just saved up in the hallways?" Clara watched him with slight curiosity as she followed.

"Yeah. Well—the TARDIS moves them around, saves them in the back, but I don't touch them. It's theirs. I suppose…" His voice grew slightly melancholic. "It's my way of thinking that they could come back one day. A little useless to hope like that, but it helps."

Humming in agreement, Clara nodded, knowing better than to say something more. He was right, of course, not only that it was hopeless but that it was helpful; however, he wasn't looking for approval on the subject, so she just kept her mouth shut.

Eventually they came to a door among the hallways, painted maroon and sticking out like a sore thumb in the mechanical hallways with its traditional wooden appearance, looking so homely in the foreign spaceship atmosphere.

"Ah—this is it, I suppose." The Doctor stopped, shoving his hands in his pockets and studying the door.

"You suppose?" Raising her eyebrow, she looked at him quizzically.

"Well, I didn't pick it out for yea." Making a face, the Doctor shrugged. "She did."

"She as in… your ship?" Clara frowned, somewhat curiously in nature.

"Oh, yeah." He turned to her, pushing the door open and letting her peer in, studying her new home. "She's more than just a hunk of metal, you know."

Chuckling a bit bewilderedly at his words, she wandered into the room, feeling around the wall for a light switch and flicking it on. The room illuminated with a soft light, somewhat golden in color, and upon further inspection to the light switch she found the intensity of the light was adjustable. It was a small room, rather quaint; the walls didn't resemble those of the TARDIS much at all, but instead like those of a home, the drywall painted a pleasant, homely beige color. A bronze-trimmed mirror hung above a mahogany dresser along the wall to her left, and centered at the wall to her right was a full-sized bed clad in a similar green color trimmed with white, and adorned nicely with a small bedside table at its flank. It reminded her much of what she'd like in a bedroom in a flat—but, sadly, was never able to find in Cardiff.

"You'll be able to add more to it," the Doctor explained. "Paintings and stuff. Maybe if you're extra nice, the TARDIS might extend the room and leave room for a bookshelf or something. Or maybe add a closet, closets are nice."

"I think the dresser will tide me over just fine for now, but oh, a bookshelf would be _wonderful_."

"I know it's more like a home now with a room so there'll be less awkward wandering around in the hallways, yeah? Of course, no one ever said you couldn't wander—I've got a huge library I'm sure you'd love to find, and I suspect there's a few more hidden away in there deep within the innards of the hallways."

"I will certainly have to look for that, then," Clara commented, giving a slight smile.

Suddenly, the Doctor yawned, stretching. "Alright. Why don't you toddle off to sleep, then? Even I'm _exhausted_, I can't imagine how it must be with you."

"Fine, fair enough, I am rather drained. I suppose I'll just bunker down and make myself at home then. Maybe do some unpacking."

"Sounds fine with me. And then we can plan our next great adventure, yeah?"

"Oh, of course."


	12. Chapter 12

"Right—do hang on!" With a frantic air to his actions, the Doctor tugged a lever down on his TARDIS as hard as he could—he'd not needed to use that lever in a long time, it was rather stuck with age.

Gripping the railing, Clara frowned, stumbling slightly from the violent shake of the TARDIS. "Is it really necessary to fly her so vehemently?"

"Of course it is," the Doctor shouted back, vexed by the mere notion. "You think I'd throw her around like this if it weren't needed? We've got to get out of here before they can trace the signal—looks like 17th century Italy is a safe bet, that's certainly far enough… I hope you're alright with this particular adventure taking a little longer than expected!"

* * *

Initially, the trip wasn't intended to go so haywire, or even be so risky. It was intended to be a vacation, something different from the fast paced adventures of Cardiff and Lake Geneva filled with dangerous battles and chase scenes and cadavers of the sort.

It was originally intended to be a trip to an intergalactic zoo—which, while he didn't often approve of such treatment of animals, the Doctor was fairly certain obtained its specimens in humane manners. And they certainly did treat the creatures well; while it was an indoor zoo with glass containers and metal walls, the creatures were let out when the weather was stable on the planet, and snow wasn't plummeting down from the skies as stinging wind whipped about. At least they didn't force them to huddle about outside in that sort of weather.

"This is one of my favorite zoos," the Doctor explained as they walked in. "They're rather kind to the animals. I mean, I've never been one for locking up animals—but what are you going to do?"

"Oh, can't you just run around the universe and shut down every zoo by posing as an agent of the law and claiming they're too inhumane to stick around? You've got the police box, they _have_ to believe you," Clara teased, a small smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

Letting out a loud laugh, the Doctor shoved his hands into his pockets, walking along. "It's definitely an appealing idea, but no."

Clara glanced around, looking at the various creatures—many were species she'd never seen before, though a couple of Earth animals were tossed into the mix. It seemed they'd found themselves in the forest climate section, and one animal in particular she noticed was house in an enclosure decorated with purple plants, likely from its home world. Peculiar.

However, it began to disconcert her that the hallways of the zoo were relatively deserted. It couldn't have been too awfully late, as she was certain the sun was still out, but still it didn't seem many were around. Those that were, were likely tourists, just as themselves. Just as she began to open her mouth to say something, the Doctor piped up.

"Isn't it odd that the zoo seems rather empty?" he asked, mirroring her thoughts.

"I was just thinking the same thing," she replied, looking around with skepticism.

"I don't like it," the Doctor began to see, but suddenly the overhead speakers crackled on and a low, quiet yet eerie alarm sounded, the duo exchanging worried glances at each other as they stopped short in their tracks. They were rather far from the entrance at this point.

The sirens, which Clara had decided were rather reminiscent of the airstrike alarms that could be heard in World War II, eventually faded out, dying down and leaving an uncomfortable silence. It seemed what locals were still around had absconded, and they seemed to be the last tourists around in this particular section.

"Oh, I definitely don't like it." A stern expression washing over his face, the Doctor took a few slow steps forward, hastily investigating his surroundings and looking for some sort of danger.

Suddenly, a voice crackled from overhead—the voice was pleasant on its own, but in the chilling silence came foreboding and admittedly a bit frightening. "Now beginning overhead scan, please stand by."

Holes in the ceiling opened up with a mechanical, twisting motion, like something from a futuristic movie or video game from back home on Earth. Small, mechanical arms descended—much like something from Portal, Clara decided, and a chill ran down her back at the fear of having stumbled upon Aperture Science. You could pretend it would be all fun and games when it was fiction—as it was suddenly very real and upon you, the prospect was unsettling.

"Oh, I'm really not liking this!" The Doctor frowned. "What a bust, this was supposed to be a break from all the running!"

The mechanical appendages began to emit a green light, scanning the two and speaking moments later.

"Two life forms identified—processing."

"_Processing_?" The Doctor exchanged a worried glance with his companion, stepping forward.

"Identified. One Time Lord. One Human."

Tentatively, Clara moved forward with him, watching the node. It quickly zipped back up inside its hole as the ceiling closed like nothing had happened. Suddenly, the overheard voice crackled from above once more.

"Please stand by for collection. Useless specimens will be disposed of or put to work."

"Remember when I said I rather liked this place?" The Doctor turned to Clara, frowning.

"Yeah?"

"I take that back. Clara?" Suddenly, he turned on his heel, snatching up her hand and swiftly heading down the hallways in hopes of reaching the entrance as heavily armed workers began to emerge from the doors and arches in the walls. "_Run_."


	13. Chapter 13

Frankly, the TARDIS seemed so abandoned these days. It had only been two or so weeks, it seemed, and once again Clara decided to slip inside. She was sleeping, Clara decided, wandering up to the console and gently running her fingers over the metal. A few yards away was the captain's chair, left cold and untouched once more. It hadn't been long at all.

It had only been two or so weeks since the TARDIS skid into Italy with a somewhat violent tumble much like it had when it arrived in Cardiff. The alleyway this time was floored with dirt and littered with the garbage of the Italian citizens.

"Italy is a rather good destination, I'd say. It's quite amiable, you'll like it here, don't worry." Setting the TARDIS into park hastily, the Doctor turned around the console, rushing about it as Clara approached him tentatively as he bustled about.

"What do you _mean_ I'll like it here? I'm sorry, but you're not leaving me here, are you?" She asked, voice livid with apprehension

"No, no—not alone, anyways, but we may be here for a while." He read the scanners of his ship, pulling a hand through his hair and frowning. "Damn it all, I'll have to do it again…"

"Do _what_, Doctor..?"

"Listen very carefully," he said, pulling something out and approaching her, his expression severely serious. He handed the object, a pocket watch, over to her. "You trust me, don't you? Because I am about to trust you with a very important responsibility, understood? My entire future depends on it."

"Of course I trust you, but what on earth are you on about?" Frowning, her eyebrows sewed together as she looked down at the silver watch, running over it in her fingers absentmindedly.

"I'm going to have to make myself human, Clara. And it's going to be very painful but there isn't anything else I can do to evade them for the time being, regrettably." He quickly turned to the console, pulling a few levers and pressing a few buttons with haste, a sort of helmet-looking thing coming down.

"That's possible…?" Clara watched him with bewilderment, and a slight bit of fear washing over her.

"Yes. I don't rather like to do it, though. Imagine your whole structure being rebuilt! It's just about as bad as regeneration!"

"Then why do it..?"

"I have to." He frowned. "They can trace the old girl's signal and they know the genetic structure of a Time Lord. I can put her into a sort of electric rest, put her on her emergency power so they can't trace her. They'll know we're here but will probably give up if they can't find her signal, and can't hunt down any Time Lords. They haven't taken proper DNA samples yet, either, so they won't know you and if we just wait it out a month or two everything should be fine. They'll give up. Listen, you need to do me a favor." He pulled the helmet down, preparing to put it over his head. "I haven't got the time to make you a video full of instructions like I want to. So you'll have to listen closely. Oh—hand me the watch back, will you?"

She did as instructed, and he popped it into the helmet.

"This watch is me. When I open it, I'll go back to being a Time Lord, in essence. It'll be all filled with time energy and what not. I won't notice it—it's got a perception filter and all. But it's very important that I don't open it till it's alright to do so. Emergencies count! If you absolutely need me to, do it. Have me open the watch."

"Right, okay…" she frowned. "But what will we do?"

"I'm going to write you into my memory. Give myself a story. And you're going to play along with it. You're going to continue to be my companion, but this time, it's up to you to keep me out of danger and protect me at all costs. Don't let me hurt anyone. Don't let me die. Don't let me make any grave mistakes. And most importantly, don't let me leave you." His expression and tone grew solemn. "You are the most important part of this plan. You're the only thing making sure I don't stay human forever. And please, for god's sakes, Clara—don't die on me, please."

And with that he pulled the helmet down and began to rewrite his whole structure, and she watched in horror as he changed his entire genetic make-up, having to turn away as sickness and apprehension washed over her.

It had only been two or so weeks, and from that moment on everything had changed so drastically for the two.

Sighing, Clara gave the TARDIS console an affectionate pat.

"I'm sorry, old girl… Just a few more weeks, I'm sure. We'll just wait for this whole mess to boil down and then we'll be back out in the stars again, yeah?" Clara smiled, the look on her face melancholic. A small hum ran up her arm as her fingers lingered along the metal surface of the console, the TARDIS livid with an electrical melancholy. He was right, she was more than just a hunk of metal.

"And just think." She took her usual spot in the captain's chair, where she'd stop every day on her afternoon walk. She never really talked—often uttered soft apologies to the ship and occasionally slipped off into the depths to explore for an hour or two before heading back. But it was good to be speaking to her like this. "There's going to be a good deal of stories. It's not the most… _exciting_ occupation, but working as a Scaramouch at an Italian fair is certainly a wonderful job. Don't think I'd like to stay here forever, though." She frowned, scratching the back of her head. "I suppose the Doctor will have to open up his watch before the end of the month. The fair packs up then. We can't leave you behind."

Another electric hum resounded, one of agreement this time.

"We could always get another job… but what good will that do us? I doubt I could convince him to do so anyways. We're travelers, even now; why would we settle down like this?" She stood from the chair, giving the console one last affectionate pat before moving towards the hallways. "How old is Hamlet? I think John would like a copy. Maybe I can bring one back to him, yeah?"

* * *

The door to the carnival trailer clicked shut quietly. Inside it was quite homely, and regrettably, Clara had begun to grow a little fond of it.

"I brought you a book," she said to the man in the chair, placing the book on the cluttered door-side table in the cramped space. The shell of the Doctor and the mind of an Italian man named John Ferraio (which, upon some more proper research, appeared to be the Italian variation of 'Smith'. She wasn't sure what else she expected.) To Clara, it was still disconcerting, even after all this time.

He looked up from his writings and stood, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Lovely! Which book is it this time?"

"Hamlet. You'll like it."

"Oh, I've been meaning to pick that one up! Good play, I hear. Thanks plenty, dearest." He moseyed over to the table, fingers running across the book. His mannerisms and words put sickly knots in Clara's stomach—it wasn't the Doctor, not really. The Doctor would have read Hamlet more than once, certainly (hell, he'd probably seen the very first production of it, knowing him.) The Doctor wouldn't call her "dearest". The Doctor wouldn't act like this. But then, there was nothing to be done. Not really.

"It is. I've always wanted to see it, frankly—maybe one day we'll get enough money saved up, get the chance to go."

"Oh, yes, let's do it." John grinned, grabbing his mask from the cluttered table. "For now, there's rehearsal in 15 minutes, remember. Get changed, we've only got today before the next show."

"Yeah, I know." Nudging him gently in the shoulder, she moved deeper into the trailer they shared. "Run along, John."

As her companion exited the trailer, she started to strip down, pulling on the white theatrical costume she wore for shows—the white blouse with the large, oversized lavender buttons and the lavender skirt over the black and white tights and lilac-colored leather knee-high boots to top it off. It was clearly theatrical for that time, though she was sure that at some point in human history—perhaps 1980 or so—she could have gotten away with wearing something like that in public on any day other than Halloween. And, as she exited out the door, she snatched up her own white mask from the cluttered table before running off.

* * *

"Rehearsals went well," John remarked, tossing his jacket onto the coatrack as he reentered his trailer, moving to light a lantern in the dark of the night, the sun having set a good hour or two ago. He'd long since changed out of costume, of course, before running off to dine.

"Dinner was especially good tonight, I'm rather surprised. The cook must have found it in the budget to buy something nicer for supper." Gently closing the door behind her, Clara welcomed the light of the lantern as John shook out the match he'd used to light it, although it did nothing to ward off the cold of the night.

"Keep in mind, today was the first day before the show of ticket selling. We usually get a nicer dinner when we get such an influx of income."

"That is true." Tugging off her boots, Clara made her way over to her hammock, rolling into it as John kicked off his shoes carelessly as he always did and pulling himself up into his cot, his sleeping arrangements above hers—the only method of furnishing that could be pulled off in the small space.

Clara had begun to make herself at home in the small space—beside her hammock was a small bedside table, two drawers in it and a worn book with a bedside lamp on top. It was an old-fashioned lamp, of course, one with the glass neck above a vat of oil and a charred wick reminiscent of rope. She tried to avoid lighting it, as she saw it as more of a fire hazard than anything else.

The contents of the drawers were little things she'd snuck in from her bag, left in her room in the TARDIS. It helped ease the homesickness—to think, a traveler would grow homesick when being away from home was a regular occurrence. Though, truthfully, Cardiff didn't yield much of a home for her. Home had always been with her father, and living in the downtown flat, she'd grown used to the homesickness. She hardly even felt it anymore.

But being stuck in Italy, with a man that wasn't her companion, that hit a bit deep and stirred up a good deal of homesickness again. Homesickness for the TARDIS, for the stars and adventure. Least to say, it wasn't a good feeling.

In the cot above her, John stirred, making a bit of a fuss as he rolled over and popped his head down to look at her the wrong way up. Clara rolled over in her hammock, facing him.

"Do you ever have strange dreams?" he asked, his question out of the blue. Truthfully, she had them all the time, though they weren't particularly strange to her—ones about the few travels she'd had and ones she could be having. But, of course, she couldn't mention that to John. He'd think her mad, and at any rate, he couldn't know.

So instead, she said, "No," lying to him and feeling just a small bit of guilt for it.

"I do," he replied. "Dreams about occult and ethereal being and travelling to all the celestial bodies we know and ones you'd never have heard of. I usually dream I have two hearts, actually. Often I even believe I'm supposed to have two hearts. It disconcerts me a little. Fancy that? I must sound mad, huh?"

"Not really," Clara reassured. "I think you're just a man with a fantastic imagination and an open mind. It's good to have an open mind, you know, not to shut the impossible out. Never dismiss the impossible." She caught herself, internally frowning down upon herself for the way she was choosing her words. As if she was just begging for him to realize his dreams were his past, not fictions developed by a clever mind. It was a lost cause, at any rate. He'd wake up when he was ready.

Suddenly, a ruckus outside brought their conversation to an abrupt, though by Clara, well-welcomed, halt. Someone was shouting for a doctor from the animal tent, and Clara peered up at John, her disconcerted expression matched by one of his own.

"We should go check that out, yeah?" he asked with palpable concern.

"Yeah, I think that's for the best," Clara replied.

* * *

After the two had gotten properly prepared to return to brave the chill of the night, they slipped out of the trailer to investigate the source of discord at the southern end of the circus encampment. A small crowd had gathered of workers had gathered around the entrance to the animal tent, and Clara frowned at the sight of the dissonance.

She and John began to push through the crowd a bit, making an attempt to reach the front. The inside of the tent was illuminated by a candle, they could clearly see, and it shimmered off the pool of blood that had started to gather not three feet in. Inside, the ringmaster seemed to be discussing the details of the situation with a police officer, though for the most part it was clear what happened. The blood was pooling from around the head, Clara decided upon pressing closer for further observation, which meant he was likely struck hard in the back of the skull. But the door to the lion's cage lay ajar, broken slightly off its hinges as it swung haphazardly. The inhabitant, a glorious gold lion, was cowered in the back of the cage, snarling and defensive.

Suddenly, the ringmaster emerged and spoke up. "I want everyone to go back to their tents, there's been an accident with the lion," he announced, his voice tense—it was a lie, of course, Clara figured. There was no way that kind of blunt force trauma was just an accident caused with the lion. "Tomorrow's show has been canceled."

There were groans of protest from the staff of the circus in the crowd, and Clara exchanged a worried glance with John as the ringmaster demanded the attention back and reordered the group.

"The show has been postponed until further notice. Do not slack on practicing on your own time; I'll organize a group practice once the details of the situation have been sorted out and the show is back on." And with that, the ringmaster parted the crowd and with a commanding haste in his step, fled for his trailer.


	14. Chapter 14

"I don't understand." Clara paced the trailed, avoiding the mess as she could (though it was rather hard.) John frowned, watching from his vantage point atop his cot.

"Just get some rest, everything will be fine. The lion will probably be taken care of in the morning," he reassured, but that only aggravated her further.

"But it's not _fair_," she insisted, "considering I don't think the lion was the culprit. That man was murdered and I don't think we're safe here anymore."

"I—Clara, what are you on about? No one murdered _anybody_, it was an accident. Really, come off it. Get some rest." John frowned, growing more concerned.

"But think about it! That man was experienced, do you think the lion would have killed him? Theo loved him madly, she'd never kill her own master!" She stopped, folding her arms over her chest. "And did you even get a good look at the body? The man was bludgeoned, a lion didn't kill him. The poor girl was framed…"

"You're overthinking his." Sighing, John let his head drop back to his pillow. "Please, just put out the lantern and get some rest. It'll be fine."

Clara stood for a moment, eyebrows sewn together as she watched him, frowning. Eventually she relented, and, putting out the lantern, crawled into her hammock and settled down to attempt to sleep.

* * *

Dawn came on their encampment early in the morning like it always did, the sun peaking up over the highlands in the distance when anyone's pocket watch would have read 6:48 (unless, of course, their watch was incorrect.) John had been up for about 15 minutes, having dragged himself into a fresh change of clothes and out of the trailer into the dim, periwinkle glow that shone just before dawn.

He was one of the only workers that ever really got up that early—the cook did and a few others as well, though not many. Of course, with the cook came the smells of early morning breakfast, usually sausages and eggs and assorted goods that the cook could get with the budget they were on. It was seldom bad, considering she was rather good at what she did, and the somewhat low wages were worth it considering they were getting free housing and good food.

Scribbling in a journal, John sat in the seating area in front of the kitchen trailer, braving the morning cold if only for an opportunity to have some time alone. He often did this; often sat on his own and drew and wrote whatever came to mind—which, if he was honest, was nothing but the dreams he often had. Adventures of a man with two hearts who travelled the universe in an impossible box. He'd occasionally seen the man with the same face as him; not always, but sometimes. The person he was with always seemed to change as well, but eventually his companions seemed to reoccur—Rose, the pink and yellow Londoner; Martha, the woman who saved the world in the year that everyone forgot; Donna, the most important woman in the world. There were others, of course. But none that appeared with the man that shared his face. Except for Sarah Jane, of course, but she appeared only briefly, even if she was one of the most important at the times she did.

As his thoughts wandered across time and his pen wandered across the page, he did not notice the woman approaching the circus.

* * *

Morning routine was seldom strayed from by Clara; she'd wake often hours later than John (usually at about 8 or 9) just as the rest of her co-workers started getting rather loud till she could sleep no longer and she was forced to drag herself out of bed, hurrying around the trailer till she emerged not 5 minutes later prepared for the day (when she didn't have to worry about make-up or any fancy Victorian dresses and was allowed to scurry around in just a pair of trousers and a button up, it made things rather simple.)

However, this particular morning, she was interrupted bright and early perhaps no earlier than 7:15 as a disturbance began to arise around the camp. It took a moment to get out of bed, a sense of dread welling up in the pit of her stomach. Could another murder have occurred the previous night?

Nevertheless, she managed it in time, pulling herself together and out of the small abode towards the source of the discontent. It wasn't much—just a few members of the circus making a bit of a fuss, one of which being a good friend of Clara's from her newfound work.

"Nellie, what's going on?" Tapping her gently on the arm gently to get her attention, Clara peered in to the small group, careful not to intrude more than what was strictly necessary.

"A woman came by earlier," Nellie turned towards her, a small smile on her face as she tugged her into the chattering group of women. "No one ever visits, not when a show's going on. And she seemed terribly rich, judging by those peculiar clothes. They were awfully nice looking."

"Let me guess, you're taking bets on what she's here for." Clara sighed, shooting her an exasperated look, and Nellie gave a sharp laugh.

"When are we not gambling, dear?" Patting her on the shoulder, she shooed the other away. "You've just woken up, haven't you? Why don't you run off and grab some breakfast, yeah?"

"Right, okay. Do keep me informed, yeah?" Nodding, Clara slipped off to the circus, quite intent on reaching the dining trailer. It was clear across the other side of the camp, a short walk that might last only a minute at most.

However, she was stopped right in her tracks half-way over as a woman rounded the corner—she certainly wasn't a member of the circus, thought she could pass for one based on the way she was dressed. A woman wearing trousers and a button-up (held up by bright red suspenders, no less) was especially unusual for the time. Of course, there was a lot unusual about her. She was roughly three or four inches taller than Clara, more or less, and her wild ginger hair hit her shoulder blades. It wasn't raggedy, or ill-kempt, so to speak, but rather, voluminous and rather messy. And, of course, she bore a curious, adventurous look about her.

As soon as she spotted Clara, she brightened up, grinning madly.

"Oh, look at you! It's been such a long time—how are you? How's the Doctor?" she asked, holding Clara by the shoulders at an arm's length and looking her over. Recoiling, the blonde jerked back from the touch, startled.

"P-pardon?"

"What are you doing here in Florence? I wouldn't expect you two to be around here much. And in a circus, no less…" Frowning, the woman tapped her chin, other hand resting on her waist. "Did you not think to dress in period clothing? I mean, the outfit's nice—very adventurous looking—but women didn't really wear trousers and things during the Renaissance…"

"Um—you're not exactly one to speak," Clara replied, trepidation in her voice. "I'm sorry, but… who are you, again?"

The woman's face immediately dropped. She brought it up fairly quickly, but her smile was softer, fonder. Less audacious.

"Figures. You're… _young_." Pausing for a moment, she carefully considered her words. "I'm Johanna. Johanna Smith."

"Right…" Clara wrinkled her nose for a moment. Something was off. "And, where did you say you were from, again?"

"I didn't. Um-" The smile dropped from Johanna's face again. "Look, I really ought to go, I'm late. Sorry."

Before Clara could protest, Johanna was off, and the blonde couldn't quite shake the nervous feeling that had washed over her. Everything was horridly out of place and there was no way they were still safe here, she decided. She needed to find John.

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry the update took so long. I've been working on a lot of other things and I just finished this u0u

Nellie was originally meant to be named Millie but my school is doing Sweeney Todd and I liked Nellie better uvu (Sweeney Todd is also where I got the name Johanna. I liked it better than Jane.)

So, "Johanna" is my friend's character, the one I was talking about earlier. Her real identity will be revealed later :o  
(we originally toyed around with a pop star name for her rather than something bland. I thought Marina Diamandis might be nice uvu because Marina is a babe)


	15. Chapter 15

Midmorning had just struck, as indicated by the chiming of the church bells in the distant center of the city—ten chimes exactly, signaling it was 10 AM, right on the hour. John had occupied himself with his work all morning, and it in fact quite surprised him that he'd spent a good three hours with his writings and drawings. There was more he wanted to do, of course, and since the next show had been cancelled, he'd have the time to do it, his schedule completely free of practices. But he didn't entirely plan to be doing much else for a while, as he didn't exactly expect to be bothered on his rather pleasant day off.

However, things didn't entirely go as planned—they never really do—as a young woman, dressed quite peculiarly with wild red hair approached him from the side.

"Hi."

"Um—hello…" John looked up, his expression quite puzzled. "Can I… help you?"

"Oh—oh, um, actually, I was wondering if you knew when the next show was." She acted as if his question threw her.

"I wouldn't know, sorry, the most recent one we had was actually cancelled. Why, were you hoping to catch it? Or perhaps… to join?" He looked her up and down, studying her peculiar garms, and she just gave a small smile.

"No, just curious. I haven't seen a circus in years."

"Oh, you should definitely come, then." John brightened up considerably, turning to face her more. "You ought to keep up on what's going on. We've just… had an accident. It's forced us to postpone, unfortunately."

"Totally understandable." She paused for a moment, and after a long moment of silence, asked, "What are you drawing?"

"Oh—um." John flustered, looking back to his notebook. "Just—dreams and stories and things. I like to write them out but drawing helps to."

"You're a fantastic artist. Where did you learn?"

"Gallifrey."

The woman visibly stiffened, her carefree expression becoming drastically more forced. "Gallifrey…"

"Yeah. It's, um—in Scotland, I think. I can't quite seem to recall… Maybe Ireland, it must be an island somewhere around there."

"Yeah. Must be." Eyes sad, the woman continued to study his drawings. "What do you write about?"

"Travels. I dream I'm this man—called the Doctor—and I just… travel to all sorts of impossible places. I must sound mad, don't I?"

"Not at all." She gestured to the paper. "And her? Who's she?"

"Oh—her name is Donna. She's very important, I seem to recall. There are others, too." He started to flip through the pages, showing off other drawings. He didn't often show his works off, but this woman had a very open feel to her, someone with a very magnetic personality. "Martha, and Rose, and Sarah Jane, and—oh, this one, River Song. She's only there once."

"What happens to her?" The woman's seemingly confident air almost evaporated completely, as if for once she had no idea what he was talking about.

"She… doesn't die, I don't think. Just… goes away." He sat for a moment, studying his drawing with complete interest as if he was struggling to understand something about it. Quickly, however, he snapped out of it, moving to turn back to the woman as she spoke.

"Have you seen a young blonde girl? Dressed in a white blouse and a lavender skirt?"

Furrowing his eyebrows, John frowned. "That sounds like…" he paused. "What do you want with Clara?"

"Never mind that. Did you see where she went?"

"I'd like to know what you need her for first," John protested, but the girl shook her head, a small smile on her face.

"We're old friends, that's all. I need to speak with her on an urgent matter, have you seen her lately?"

"Um—…" Trepidation in his voice, he turned his head, looking around. "If she's not around here then she's gone to either our trailer or Nellie's, I'd imagine…" Turning back to her, his expression hardened once again. "Sorry, I never did catch your—"

She was gone.

"—name…"

* * *

Quite unfortunately, John had been gone all morning. He'd not returned to the trailer once, nor had Clara seen him around the circus in the small time she'd been hunting for him. She started from the far East end and slowly moved West—it was a rather large camp, perhaps a square kilometer or two in size. It wouldn't be unheard of for her to have missed him. However, the fact was still unsettling.

She rounded down one path—one she'd not been down—and despite the slight haste in her step, was still careful to keep a watchful eye on her surroundings. Stopping short, however, when a tall man in a rather untimely red suit caught her eye, she stood thirty or so paces back at an intersection, all but hidden by one of the trailers as he ducked into where she remembered to be the Ringmaster's trailer. Peculiar, she thought, but (albeit somewhat reluctantly) she decided it wasn't up to her to question. She was busy, at any rate, and forced herself to leave the scene, hurrying back down the path.

* * *

"Clara?"

John pushed the door to the trailer open and was, of course, quite disconcerted to find it empty. He'd been looking for her all across the circus now, but it was fairly large, and it was completely possible they'd only constantly been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Of course, there wasn't much to worry about, he thought, but just wanted to make sure she was safe. Clara had certainly never mentioned anyone with wild ginger hair, and it wasn't like he knew the woman's name to go off of.

Tapping his chin, he stood in the doorway for a moment, before quickly whipping around and heading back out to search for her.

* * *

Clara hurried along the dirt path of the camp, looking for someone who might know where John was. Of course, what was she supposed to tell him once she found him? That he was being hunted by an intergalactic zoo looking for a Time Lord and he had to make himself human to avoid them? That their position might have been compromised and they had to leave immediately before some sort of bounty hunter came and snatched him up? Of course she couldn't tell him that.

As she passed the ringmaster's trailer, she was stopped short by a rather harried-looking crowd. Ordinarily she'd have ignored it and continued on with her search, but considering the recent events, she couldn't just disregard it and slipped over. Discretely, she caught Nellie's arm, leaning over to speak with her quietly.

"What happened?"

"The ringmaster was murdered," Nellie explained, her expression quite sober. A rather unsightly frown crossed Clara's face, guilt hitting her like a punch to the gut.

"How long ago?"

"They found him not ten minutes ago, from what I've heard."

_And I was here twenty ago_, Clara thought, though kept her mouth shut tight.

"Here, run along and find John," Nellie continued, shooing the other away. "I think you two need some time off, I'd hate for either of you to get hurt."

"What about you?" Clara frowned, glancing back.

"Nobody wants to kill the resident mechanic. I'll be fine," she assured, though Clara didn't entirely buy into it.

"And where do you expect either of us to go? John hasn't got family and my family's…" _In 21__st__ century Cardiff._

"Up in Wales, yeah, I know." Nellie flapped a hand dismissively. "Just head out of town for a few days. Or better yet, quit and get a new job. He could be a professor, you know, with the credentials he's got."

"But he won't _want_ it," Clara insisted. "He's a traveler, he prefers it to anything else and it'll take just short of hell in a hand-basket to convince him otherwise."

"Then give it to him," Nellie teased, giving the other a small nudge.

"That's exactly what he's in for, if he doesn't turn up soon."

"Go find him, go." She shooed the blonde in the other direction, ushering him off to go take care of her companion.

* * *

As noon rolled around, the paths along the encampment of the circus were all but abandoned, making it hard for John to ask if anyone had seen Clara and easy for him to avoid crowds to root through. Everyone was likely off at lunch, he thought, and if he didn't see her anywhere around then it was more than likely that she'd joined them, and that would be his best bet of finding her. He moseyed along the streets a little, not exactly making a point to run about, and instead, studied his surroundings carefully. So, of course, when he rounded a corner down one path and into an alleyway of sorts formed by the narrow two-to-three yard space between two trailers, he noticed when a man in a particularly peculiar red suit rounded the corner behind him.

He whipped around briskly, posture stiffening. "Can I help you?"

The man didn't speak, much to John's dismay, but rather, opened his long trench coat and pulled some sort of object John couldn't quite place from an inner pocket. Every instinct John had was telling him with the utmost urgency to get out of there—even the instincts he couldn't place, those he accredited to his imaginary alter ego, the Doctor.

The man in red scanned him for a moment, observing the results on the object with the flickering yellow light at the top. In a moment the light turned a color equal to the man's suit, and he frowned, pocketing the little grey box once more and pulling his hand back out with a much different object—a knife.

* * *

**A/N**: sorry for the severely massive lack of updates i've also been working on 238907523985723579 other fics and not to mention the school production of sweeney todd  
so  
it's not edited? which might cause some problems but i'll come back and edit it later i'm just pressed for time right now

in like three or four chapters prepare for some massive river song feels fair warning (i'm sorry that i'm not sorry)

i hope you enjoyed the latest chapter uvu


	16. Chapter 16

"John?"

Every instinct that stood for panic and alarm in Clara's brain was screaming, in turmoil over John's life and in turmoil over her own. She stood, frozen, as the man in red with her back turned to her faced John, the glinting blade in his hand making her companion stand rigid in fear. The man in red tensed, whipping around to her. His face was mostly shaded, mostly unreadable, but anger and a small sense of panic lingered there.

Quickly, and without warning, he whipped the blade at her, and Clara only had the time to move only enough to avoid being impaled straight through the skull with the knife—instead, it grazed her cheek, producing a small cut, and before she knew it, a distinct thud could be heard and the knife was in the trailer behind her. She stood for a moment, severely shaken and only able to watch as the man immediately whipped back around, zipping down the alleyway and (quite forcefully) shoving John out of the way.

After the three or four seconds it took for Clara to regain her senses had passed, she wiped her cheek, hissing slightly at the stinging before hurrying over to John's side.

"John—oh, lord, are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"Me? Nah, I'm fine, fit as a fiddle." Now there was the Doctor she knew—albeit he sounded shaken, and he certainly wasn't doing a good job at masking it. "You, though—I think we need to get you out of here, I doubt a man like that's going to let things go so quickly."

"We need to leave," Clara replied, quite matter-of-factly. "We need to pack up and get a flat on the edge of town and find a new job and leave."

For once, John didn't argue.

* * *

After all was settled—after Clara had spoken to Nellie and said her goodbyes, and John had arranged their resignation (and even managed to wheedle a small—_very_ small, in fact, equivalent to perhaps 45 pounds—severance check out of the circus,) and the two had rented out a small flat a few blocks away and moved in and all was said and done—it seemed like everything had finally settled down and any amount of adventure Clara might have come across was gone with the wind.

Not that that was a bad thing, necessarily, considering that with the Doctor in the state he was in at the present moment, adventure could be a disastrous thing and the end of them both. Of course, she figured she'd be able to hold her own, but then, John was nearly just as adventurous as he used to be and twice as difficult to manage, and she doubted she'd be able to take care of him as well as herself. And she wasn't exactly keen on letting him die and losing him, nor did she want to stay stuck in the 17th century, certainly not in a country so far from her own.

The flat they'd settled into was small and four roomed—a kitchen, a sitting room, and two bedrooms, most of which came pre-furnished. John worked on getting a job at a university, and, unable to do much else, Clara stayed at home for most of the day, still partaking on her daily walk. She'd visit the TARDIS, and often stop in with Nellie for a bit of tea, discussing what had happened on the day since she'd left. (Nellie was, in fact, English, as it seemed, born and raised an orphan in Oxford till she decided to skip town and take a ship down around the coast to Italy.)

"I have excellent news, Clara," John announced one afternoon perhaps a week later, entering the sitting room where the other was curled up, re-reading her copy of Julius Caesar.

"Have you?" Turning around, she turned to face him, though her back still remained to him.

"Oh yes. See, there's a university just down town that's considering hiring me. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Oh, _excellent_." It was, in fact, not excellent—it meant remaining there longer, though it also meant being able to survive on more than the pittances of their savings, so it wasn't entirely horrible, either.

"Isn't it about time for you to head out on your daily walk?" John asked, leaning over the back of the sofa and glancing up at the large grandfather clock in the sitting room. With surprise, Clara looked up at it as well, eyebrows shooting for her hairline as she read the time.

"Oh—_oh_, it is, I was hardly paying attention." Slipping a scrap of paper into the page of the book she was on, she quickly stood, haphazardly sliding the book across the cushions of the couch. She stood, straightening the skirt of her dress (which she'd been forced to wear these days, as trousers and a button-up were hardly proper for a young woman of the age.)

"You ought to run along, if you like."

"I think I will; I'd hate to miss it." She couldn't exactly pop back in time if she missed it. Not now. "Think I might stop in and check with Nellie, have a spot of tea."

"You'd best not," John warned. "I'd stay away from that place if I were you, what with that man in red running around. The authorities haven't exactly caught him; I doubt you'd be much of a challenge for the bloke."

"Oh, don't flatter yourself, like you'd be any better." Rolling her eyes, Clara gave him a small nudge as she passed. "I'll stop by the bookshop and nothing more, I promise."

It was, with the best of luck, a promise she intended to keep.

* * *

"Hello, old girl. It's been a while, hasn't it?" Carefully shutting the door behind her, Clara sauntered up the steps of the TARDIS, crossing the wire grate that formed a pathway to the console. "Sorry I've not stopped in. Haven't gotten the chance to visit lately. All too much has happened."

Brushing her fingers against the cool metal surface of the console, she dropped into the captain's chair, crossing her legs. And she shared everything to the machine, shared all the events of the past week and a half and received the occasional reassuring resonating hum from the old girl.

Eventually she stood after a few moments of silence, after thinking for a while and working everything out in her mind and, on a few occasions, doing her best to keep from busting out into panicked tears, and rather than slipping off into the library like initially planned, headed back out of the TARDIS, the skirt of her dress gathered in her hands as she minded the step and shuffled back down the street.

* * *

"You're totally mad, I hope you know that." As Nellie searched through the drawers of her dresser, she glanced back over at the other, who was sat on a rather fancy looking chair in the cramped space of the trailer.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I've begun to come to terms with that," Clara replied, her legs crossed and posture rigid.

"At least you're aware of it." Turning around, she handed over a handgun—it was rather primitive compared to the guns Clara was used to, bulky and not nearly as high-tech; it was, after all, in the first stages of its development, and wouldn't become even remotely close to those of her own time for another two or so centuries.

"You take care of this," Nellie ordered, giving her a pointed look. "I can't even begin to tell you how hard it is to get ahold of these."

"I will, I promise," Clara replied, giving a small nod. "I'll return it the second I'm done. Might not even need it, but it's better to go out armed and not need it than to not when it's necessary."

"Truer words have never been spoken." A broad grin broke out across Nellie's face, and her hands closed over the other's. "Be careful. That man is horribly dangerous and I won't have you going off and getting yourself killed."

"I won't, I promise."

A small moment of silence passed before Nellie spoke up again. "I'm not going to see you again after this, am I?"

"Probably not," Clara replied honestly, her voice admittedly rather small and sheepish. "I'll likely send someone to return the gun to you and we'll be out of here as soon as we can. We can't linger, you know that, and everything is so complicated and impossible to explain, but just know you've been one of my most valuable friends and I don't know what I'd do had I not met you. I doubt I'd have survived."

"It's a damn shame to see you go, you know. You could have done a lot. Could have been the first woman admitted to a university, the first to write books and be a true academic and go places. You could have really been someone and you're throwing it all away on a man." Nellie paused, letting her words really sink in. "And frankly, knowing him, I think he's worth it."

"He is," Clara affirmed. "He's so, so worth it. We'll come back some day, I think. I'd like to take you with us. But not now. Not till everything cools down."

"And that's totally understandable. I think I'm fine where I am anyways. I enjoy my work."

"Take care of yourself, then." Clara tucked the gun into a small pocket on the underside of her apron, hidden from sight. "If I don't see you after all this, then at least let me say goodbye."

"You'd better see me after this, I want my gun back."

Clara gave a small, curt laugh. "I'll send someone to return it if I have to."

Nellie attempted to give a small smile in return, but it faded quickly as realization really started to sink it. "I'm really not going to see you after this."

"No. You're not."

Without warning, Nellie pulled her into a tight hug, a frown crossing her lips. "Stay safe."

"I will."

"Take that man down, I want you to put my gun to good use."

"I will."

"Take care of that doctor of yours. John's a good man, he deserves better than to work at a circus. And so do you. Send him in to put his degree to good use and follow after. Get into a good university, even if you have to give 'em hell to do it."

After a beat of silence, Clara replied, "Believe me, I will."

Separating, Nellie held the other out at arm's length by the shoulders. "You're a good woman, Clara Honorine, don't let that go to waste."

There was a short moment of silence before Clara slipped away. "I won't."

* * *

**A/N**: hooray another update  
we're fast approaching the climax of this particular plotline so i'm excited to write that  
i still need to design a few more plotlines i mean i have some ideas for more adventures but i've yet to really properly write them out  
i may or may not have been plotting out a mobster au instead oops

but yeah so um  
big shoutout to mayfairy who's basically been the best reader ever i mean really thank you for reviewing so much  
and you guys can review too i mean p much all reviews are appreciated and loved and there may or may not be a special exlusive surprise for reviewers later so yeah that's a thing you should do  
(spoiler alert there's totally gonna be a surprise)


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N**: sorry about the unnecessarily long time between updates? i have finals and also i haven't been writing hardly at all lately i've been playing the sims a ton

and also we moved

and i got stabbed

but yeah so here's three major plot points in one update so  
enjoy  
?

* * *

The pathways of the circus were mostly abandoned—the place was in shambles, employees jumping ship left and right to avoid a fate similar to that of the ringmaster and animal keeper's. And while Johanna was thankful for the lack of civilians to get involved and get hurt, she also desperately wished for a larger crowd to hide herself in while she did her best to evade the man in red.

It was midafternoon, she decided, judging by both the position of the sun and the light crowd among the Italian city streets outside the circus encampment. She considered, just for a moment, slipping out and hiding herself among them, evading the bounty hunter, but it was no use to endanger helpless humans—and, at any rate, she was stopped short when she smacked right into a familiar blonde upon rounding a corner while glancing the other way.

"I—Clara! Clara, I'm so sorry, I wasn't… paying attention." she scratched the back of her neck with a mild unease.

"You! You're the—the girl; Johanna, right?"

"Yeah, yes, that's me. I thought you and th—John had left the circus already?"

"I'm looking for something."

"Well you _really_ shouldn't stay around long," Johanna urged, ushering her back around the corner she'd just come from. "It's—um. It's really not safe here, you two would do better as far away from here as possible."

"Oh, and like it's any better for you. That man wouldn't hesitate to kill you in a moment and you know it. What are you in such a rush for, anyways?" Clara inquired, doing her best to peer around the other.

"Never mind that—"

"Tell me."

"Clara—"

"No!" Clara's voice was unreasonably sharp, uncharacteristically stern, and it forced a jump out of Johanna, who was, admittedly, properly frightened. "You can't waltz in here knowing more about the Doctor and I than my closest friend here does, with no explanation when I've never seen you in my entire _life_, and expect instant trust and gratification to your vague orders!"

"We haven't _met_ yet, I can't exactly say much, I'm ahead of your timeline and—"

"Prove it."

"Pardon?"

"Prove you're not some madwoman. Prove you aren't someone who's here to kill the Doctor while he's down for the count. _Prove it_."

After a few moments of silence, after Johanna recomposed herself and carefully picked over her words, she finally replied, "Clara, I'm a Time Lady."

Clara stopped short, immediately sobering. "…But I thought—"

"Yeah—no, I know, the majority of us are dead. Aside from the Doctor I really only know of two others, and one… well, one might not even be living at the moment. But, the point being, that man in red is after _me_ and I don't have any way to avoid him without people getting hurt."

"…That may or may not be our fault."

"Excuse me?"

"The man in red—I mean, he's some sort of hunter, I think, and long story short, after a trip to a zoo gone horribly wrong the Doctor had to make himself human to avoid being added as an exhibit to the zoo." Clara frowned, dropping her gaze and scratching the back of her neck. If she couldn't stop the man now, she may very well be the reason the Doctor lost the very last of his kind.

Pulling a hand through her messy ginger hair, Johanna frowned, turning her gaze back to the other. "I'm sorry. Really, for all of this, I'm sorry. I know the Doctor comes with a lot of emotional turmoil and danger and running in general, but I doubt either of you ever expected to be put through _this_."

"Not in particular, no, but what are you going to do?" Clara did her best to pull on a reassuring smile, and if she was honest, it wasn't terribly convincing. "Come on, let's get you out of here; if he's hunting you down, then out in the open is the last place you want to be."

Johanna wouldn't protest that.

* * *

Circuses were not the easiest place to be hunting intergalactic prey.

Unfortunately, Orion could not manage to get the young Time Lady's DNA, and tracking her down was beginning to be a problem without his signature tracing kit. He'd been managing fairly okay, though; he almost had her twice and it had only been 15 minutes. He'd get through this job with ease—and the price an intergalactic zoo would pay for the member of an all but extinct species was more than enough to square away all of his debts eight-fold.

He continued to search the place, keeping to the shadows (not like many people were around, though) and looking for any sight of the wild mess of ginger hair. Instead of finding her, however, a glimmer of something in the soil caught his eye—it was around where the two Scaramouches had been, if he was correct, and if anything it couldn't hurt to investigate the source of the shimmer.

What he found was a pocket watch. One with intricate circular designs in the cool metal surface, lightly soiled by the dry dirt that took only a moment to dust off. He'd never seen anything like it, and wasn't entirely sure if it pertained to his search or not. He never exactly did much research on Time Lords, after all. Not like there was much research to go on.

He fiddled with it for a moment—the lid was jammed, and it took a good amount of pulling and prying to force it to pop open. When it did, however, it seemed perfectly normal, and he was about ready to toss it back to the ground when not a moment or two later, a golden light he was entirely unfamiliar with began to leak from the clockface and something told him the watch was precisely what he was looking for.

* * *

Clara was positively insufferable.

After roughly an hour and a half passed with no return (when she was seldom out later than 45 minutes,) John naturally grew rather anxious. He figured he'd find her around the bookstore, distracted and perfectly fine. He was wrong, of course, and as much as he hated to admit it, John was going to have to head back to the circus.

Naturally, Clara's closest friend was the first option. If Clara had been here, Nellie would have been the first person she'd gone to. He desperately hoped she'd say Clara hadn't been around and he'd be sent somewhere else, somewhere less dangerous. And, of course, once again, he was wrong. Nellie was perfectly happy to inform him that his blonde companion had stopped by not a half-hour before and, to make matters worse, she (somewhat reluctantly) admitted that Clara had retrieved a handgun as well. (He'd never seen a handgun—they were rather uncommon, some sort of new invention coming primarily out of China, and at any rate, he didn't want anything to do with them. Regular guns were bad enough.)

His thought his best bet would be to head back to their old trailer. She'd just forgotten something, he told himself, she'd just forgotten a book or something and with that man in red wandering about, she just didn't feel safe without that handgun she'd gotten. Yeah, that was it. No shady business or dangerous shenanigans his companion might be putting him through.

He was wrong.

Without warning, a splitting headache took full effect and he all but collapsed into the side of the trailer he'd been walking past. Images flashed before him—those of different faces that supposedly belonged to him, and the faces of those he'd taken under his wing and those he had vanquished and those he had saved—and all of it was far too much for his mind to deal with.

It hurt. Algorithms and memories and equations and people—all of it _hurt_. He seemed to remember through the fuzzy haze of pain and recollection that someone out there knew his pain. That some clever ginger temp had almost lost her life to the memories, and fear wracked his body at the proposition of death.

Before death could come, however, his body began to adapt. Rebuild itself. Go back to all of its former glory. And that hurt more than anything he could remember.

* * *

**A/N**: i'm really glad i got to finally introduce johanna properly (at least a little bit)

and yes the man in red's name is orion

and yes now that the doctor's fob watch has been open he's going to be the doctor once again

thanks for reading and please _please __**please**_ review (i love reviews they're like jaffa cakes but better)

xx


	18. Chapter 18

"It's been a half an hour, Johanna, and we still haven't found him." No matter how much Clara might have liked to keep her hopes up, they were fleeting quickly. What if he'd just abandoned the place? What if he'd turn up at some later point in their timeline to torture them further?

"You know, for someone who's been on a fully linear timeline her whole life, you sure have a poor sense of patience." And that was saying a lot, considering Johanna's own patience.

"I'm just saying, there's a good chance he's left!" Clara rebutted. "I mean, _sure_ it's a large circus, but it doesn't take a whole half hour to find someone in it!"

"Maybe we're just looking in all the wrong places, have you ever considered that?"

"I genuinely don't think we're going to find him."

Clara was wrong, of course.

Barely after she'd finished her sentence, the sound of something much like some high-powered weapon of the future (the sound, perhaps, akin to that of one of Iron Man's blasters? It had been a while since Clara had seen the movie) resonated and, as it usually does, a small blip of white shot inches past Clara's head immediately after and left a burn mark on the trailer next to her. Try as she may, she couldn't stifle her tiny cry as she jumped back, and much to her horror, Johanna stood right in front of her like a shield.

"You'd give your own life for some lesser human?" The man in red asked from his position perhaps four meters away, tipping up the brim of his hat to reveal heavy scarring over his right eye. It was the first time Johanna had heard him speak, and his gravelly, stern voice made her shudder in fright.

"'Lesser' human is absolute rubbish, she's one of the best I know," Johanna countered, scowling. The man didn't particularly react, remaining as stone-faced as ever, and instead just rummaged through his coat. Johanna continued. "And it's not like you'd kill me or anything, you're far too interested in getting me alive."

"That's true. You're smarter than I gave you credit for, I'll admit." From his trenchcoat's inside pocket he produced what might have been a pair of handcuffs if handcuffs were square and white with flashing little lights about it. The object seemed to visibly unsettle Johanna.

"If you think you'll get me into a pair of those, then you're wrong," she informed, doing her best to seem brave. She wasn't doing a particularly good job.

"And what _are_ those?" Clara asked, peering around Johanna.

"Handcuffs. Sort of. They paralyze you and feel flat out awful, and can deliver the sort of electric shocks that can render even a Time Lord unconscious."

They certainly sounded frightening to Clara.

The man stood for a moment, properly considering her words, and then fiddled with his gun (or rather, gun-looking device, being unlike any firearm Clara had ever seen) as he spoke.

"You know, you're right about wanting you alive, but my employers never said anything about you being unharmed. A Time Lady with a bullet planted firmly in her shoulder is still a Time Lady, is it not?"

Without warning, and without time to react, Johanna was shoved to the side, and she'd likely have crashed straight to the ground if she hadn't caught the side of the trailer just in time. Much to her horror, Clara stood where Johanna once had, her own borrowed gun cocked and aimed straight at the bounty hunter's head (in reality, she was aimed straight for the uninjured eye—she was a good shot, and if she missed the man's brain like she expected she would, then she'd have the opportunity to add insult to injury.)

"I was actually planning to leave you without injury, you know," the man began, a small scowl crossing his features. "You'd have been of no use to me, I could have let you escape with your life. And now I actually have to kill you."

"Don't you act all high and mighty with me. Nothing about you makes you immortal—you're a bounty hunter, not a god. If I pulled this trigger, what would stop you from crashing to the ground with your one good eye ravaged by lead?"

"Clara, stop, he'll _kill_ you." To be honest, Johanna would have gladly gotten in the way, or pulled the other down, if she didn't have the knowledge that the man in red would sooner have put a bullet through the upper joint in her arm than held his fire.

"Damn right I will," the man replied. "There's enough blood on my hands, one more human casualty won't make a difference."

Just as Clara's finger tightened on the trigger, just as she prepared to fire and potentially run the risk of taking a man's life for the first time in her own timeline, something made her stop, made her hesitate and falter, and while the man in red saw this and prepared to kill her, his own actions were cut short. That something was the grinding of brakes and the whirring of engines that came just before a painfully familiar blue box crashed hard into the man in red.

The TARDIS skid along the dirt path, tumbling a little before barely avoiding crashing into a nearby trailer, and for a moment it came as no surprise to Clara that the Doctor had crashed the thing before, when she'd first met him. As soon as the old girl was steady, the doors flew open, and the Doctor stood there, in all of his Time Lord glory, pinstripes and trenchcoat and trainers and all. Everything about him was frightening—he was stern and perfectly enraged and the fire in his eyes topped it all off, and it deeply unsettled Clara that such a soft and goofy man could become much like a raging storm without any warning at all.

Before even stepping out of the TARDIS, the Doctor shot a look, one with just a little disappointment mixed with all the fire, and that was all it took to have Clara quickly disarming and pocketing the gun once more. The Time Lord paused just a moment, regarding the man in red before him, and without warning the Doctor stepped from the TARDIS and crossed the short distance to the bounty hunter with all the swiftness and grace that Clara had never once expected out of the man, trenchcoat swishing in his wake. One converse firmly planted itself onto the man in red's chest, pinning him harshly to the ground as the Doctor scowled down at the man, giving him a particularly thorough once-over.

At this point, Johanna, having long since recovered from the unexpected shove and gotten to her feet, was ushering Clara over to the TARDIS—she couldn't risk either of them being particularly out in the open if the bounty hunter somehow managed to escape the Doctor's wrath.

"Orion," the Doctor began, voice cold and calculating.

"It's been a long time, Doctor." The bounty hunter's breathing was harsh, restricted by the foot digging into his chest.

"And I expect it to be the _last_ time." With a small growl rising in the back of his throat, the Doctor bent over, releasing the foot on Orion's chest just long enough to pull the man up by the lapels of his coat and drag him to his feet. "I'm sick and tired of dealing with you and your lot."

Quickly, the Doctor produced his sonic from his pocket and forced up the man's sleeve, revealing his vortex manipulator—try as he might to struggle, Orion's gun was tossed far to the left and the handcuffs to his right, and all he had left to do was grab the knife from the inside of his jacket. He was quick about it, but the Doctor was quicker, and whereas Orion had aimed to slit the Doctor's throat and get it over with, the Time Lord jerked his head out of the way just in time to receive nothing but a stinging slice along his cheek.

Immediately the Doctor reacted, shoving Orion into the trailer behind him with a bruising force, the knife clattering from Orion's hand and to the ground below. Pushing his arm up into the bounty hunter's throat, he deprived the other of air just for a moment—just long enough to frighten him—before removing his arm and using the sonic in hand to adjust the coordinates of the manipulator and send the man off against his will. And just like that, Orion was gone.

The Doctor stood for a moment, almost like he was inspecting his work, before whipping around to the two frightened women and storming towards the TARDIS.

"Where did you send him?" Clara asked, visibly shaken by the Doctor's temper.

"Oh, maybe Stormcage. Maybe a supernova. Who's to tell, really?"

"You've lost your mind."

"We're leaving." Without warning, the Doctor snatched up his companion's hand, tugging her from the other Time Lady's reach and towards the doors of the TARDIS.

"Wait—_wait_!" Clara did her best to tug her arm back, but to no avail. "What about her?"

"What _about_ her?" The Doctor growled, stopping short and having her against the doorframe of the TARDIS within seconds, towering over with that fire in his eyes. Clara flinched.

"I mean—we can't just leave her." They couldn't just leave potentially the only link they'd ever get to the last of the Doctor's kind.

Looking Johanna over once, the Doctor considered her for a moment before going back into the TARDIS, leaving the old girl's doors wide open. "Come on, then."

* * *

Clara couldn't help but trip as she was tugged along the metal stairs, stumbling and holding onto the railing for purchase. The second she was up on the metal platform around the console, the Doctor released her hand, whipping around to chastise her while Johanna quietly shut the door.

"That was stupid and reckless of you to confront him like that," the Doctor snapped, "and _especially_ stupid of you to try and kill the man. What the hell were you thinking? You should never, _ever_ stoop down to that level! There is never a reason to take a man's life!"

"Considering that man could have taken you away from me, and may well have killed me had I not killed him first, I'd like to think I was completely justified!" Clara retaliated, trembling just a little—whether out of fright or rage, she couldn't exactly tell. "Do you think I'm such a poor shot that I couldn't have let the slime live if I wanted to?"

"You were aiming right for his head! There was, in fact, a good chance you were going to kill him!"

"It would have been better than losing you!"

The two stood glaring at each other for a moment, rage and indignation positively livid between them, but the Doctor, with a mild shock, began to soften, and without warning tugged her into a tight hug and held her close to his person, a gesture she was quick to return.

"I have half a mind to take you back to Cardiff and leave you where I found you, you know," he mumbled into her hair.

"But you won't."

"No, I won't." Pulling away, the Doctor grimaced a little. "I, uh—I got blood in your hair…"

Clara couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry about it. Come on, let's get that cleaned up."

"And what am I supposed to do, exactly?" Johanna asked, voicing her presence for the first time since the argument between the two began.

"Just sit in the captain's chair," Clara replied, taking the Doctor's hand and beginning to lead him off down the hallway. The Time Lord squawked indignantly.

"Who said she could stay?"

"Why don't we discuss that in the med bay?"

* * *

"She's a Time Lady, you know."

The Doctor froze at his spot on the counter, blood running cold as Clara patted the cut along his right cheek with a pad of gauze.

"That's not possible."

"She is." Reaching over, she grabbed the bottle of hydrogen peroxide, pouring a little on another pad as she spoke. There were plenty of other disinfectants around the med bay, but then, plenty of them were foreign, from different planets and times, and she couldn't make heads or tails of what to do with them. "Her name—her _real_ name, I suppose, her title like yours—it's the Major. Got out at the start of the Time War. She and a friend of hers—they fob watched themselves and went to Earth, 43rd Century." With a moment of careful consideration, she added, "She told me while we were looking for Orion."

"And I'm only just now hearing about them?" The Doctor frowned, hissing a little in pain as Clara began to clean the cut. "It's been years since the Time War, you know. 300 or so, I'd think. You'd expect they'd turn up eventually."

"It's not like they knew where to find you. This is the first time meeting her for both of us. She has plenty of experiences with our future selves under her own belt, you know. Have some patience."

"I know I've never been on a linear timeline once in my life, but you can't expect me to warrant her instant trust!"

"Now, come on, I didn't ask that of you." She tossed the soiled gauze to the trash. "Think it needs to be bandaged?"

"Not particularly." Time Lords had excellent regeneration skills, after all, even when they weren't dying. "Are we really going to take her along with us?"

"Only if she's okay with it. I expect she's a busy woman." Clara didn't miss the way the Doctor's expression seemed to deflate, if only a little, and she reached up to pat the unwounded side of his face. "Don't worry. We'll cross paths with her again."

"I suppose so."

* * *

**A/N:** woah two chapter updates in a week what's happening is it the rapture  
do we need to have a talk with az and crowley about cocking things up again  
(okay except for the part where i also finished yet another chapter to post tomorrow because i wrote part of it a long time ago  
like last time i watched the library episodes a long time ago  
but it's essentially nothing but an oozing mess of river feels so have fun with that)

um yeah so  
please review because reviews are basically the best things ever and i update faster if i have reviews to encourage me?  
so there's that

ilu all  
leaves out a plate of jaffa cakes for anyone who reviews wink wonk


	19. Chapter 19

"Your hair always gets to be an absolute mess after an adventure," the Major pointed out, sitting atop the railing around the console as the three drifted through space; as her fingers combed absentmindedly through Clara's hair, the younger blonde leaned back against the railing, arms folded across her chest. The Doctor toyed with a couple of controls, occasionally turning to glance at the monitor, but for the most part there was nothing on consequence that needed his tending to and instead of fussing over his ship, he shrugged his brown coat off his shoulders and tossed it over the railing next to them, leaning against his console parallel to the two and folding his arms over his chest.

"So, as you're clearly not going anywhere," he said frankly, addressing the Major, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt anyone if I dragged you along on an adventure. Or two. But mind you, we _will_ get to proper introductions eventually. You owe me some answers, those best discussed in private."

"Oh, fine, fair enough. No need to be such a Debbie Downer." She gave a little snicker, eliciting a stifled chuckle out of Clara, but the Doctor just rolled his eyes, turning back to his console. The Major returned her attention to Clara with a triumphant smirk, fishing a hairbrush out of the bag she'd cleverly fixed to the railing next to them after retrieving it from Italy and beginning to brush out the blonde's tangled gentle curls.

"So you really haven't met me yet? What's it like? I mean, meeting someone who's running on a completely different point on their timeline than you are on yours. Where are you even at? You've just finished Italy, so… early days, I'd say. Really early days. The youngest I've ever seen you, I think." She frowned. "Well, of course it's the youngest I've ever seen you, I mean, you haven't even met me yet, and for _you_ it's chronological, which means you can't be older than I've ever seen you but still haven't met me yet, and… oh, who am I kidding, you know what I mean."

Clara chuckled, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Yes, I do. I mean—it's hard adjusting to time travel but it's easy to understand in theory. It's in practice that makes it harder."

"Oh, I don't think I've ever heard truer words." The Major grinned. "Where do you suppose we ought to go next? I've heard Kilroy is nice this time of year. Or any time of year, really. But the Sirens there get awfully feisty. It's an all water planet, you know. The only advanced sentient life there is a wild species of mermaids—a bit like Earth, but only… not. Since Earth _technically_ has more than one civilization. But—never mind, you'll learn about that later, it's too early for that. Anyways, these Sirens, they're just a bit not nice. It took 200 years after discovery before any scientists could properly identify them since any seafaring voyager sent out was killed pretty immediately."

Clara sat, contently listening to the Major ramble on. She acted like they were old friends—which, certainly, they were to her, albeit not to Clara. And with and the unfamiliar faces and personalities around her every day, it was nice to have some sort of consistency in her life. Someone other than the Doctor that she knew she could trust, and would remain friends with for many years to come.

"Let's see… I've always wanted to visit the moon of Dorian. Marina, it's called. You know, I've always considered using the name Marina as an alias, not Johanna. Marina is a pop-star—Johanna is a twisted man's daughter." The Major chuckled a little at her own reference, continuing on. "Anyways. There are ruins on the moon that historians always argue about how they got there, but the real mystery is why explorers tend to disappear when they go inside. It's any archeologist's field day. There's this one archeologist I've gotten acquainted with—Professor River Song, I've been meaning to stop in and visit."

The Doctor seemed to visibly flinch at the mention of the name, and a bit of worry stirred in Clara for a moment as he stopped what he was doing and turned to face them again, sternly crossing his arms over his chest.

"I hear she's been planning this huge expedition—at least, from my point in the timeline, that's just the last I heard about her—to this huge library. The Library. A massive planet filled with every book ever known to mankind. It's amazing, I hear, but it's been closed off. I've always been meaning to visit before it shut down. Or—oh, I've got it! Doctor, do you think we could stop in? I've always wanted to go. At any point of time is fine, I'd think, it might be fun to solve the mystery of why the Library closed itself off." The Major looked up at him, hopeful, but a stern (and somewhat shaken) scowl crossed his face.

"_No_," he said bluntly, turning back to the console. "Too dangerous. And besides, I've been, I hate repeats."

"Oh, come on, since _when_?" The Major frowned, folding her arms over her chest and pouting. "You've repeated adventures tons of times. You took me to Starship UK, and if I recall, you said you'd been _four_ times."

"I've only been three times."

"Well clearly, you go again!"

"That doesn't matter, the point is that I will _not_ take you to that Library and my decision is absolutely final! My ship, my rules. You want to recklessly endanger yourself and whoever you take along, have at it—do it on your own time." Anger and distress had bubbled up in his voice, bringing his tone to a low, livid intonation the Major had seldom heard him use before. But she certainly had, and she knew to stop immediately.

"Fine, I'll drop it, you don't need to lose your temper over it." She spoke lowly and coolly, doing her best not to rile him up. He took in a deep breath, turning around and smoothing out his suit. While he remained calm, the distress still lingered in his expression.

"Who's losing their temper?" He asked nonchalantly, though the tension was still perfectly there. "Major, will you do me a favor and run and get me a book from the library on Alfalva Metraxis?"

"Why do you need a book on-"

"Now, please?"

"Right, right, okay. Scooch." Nudging Clara slightly, she signaled for her to move, hopping down from the railing and tossing the brush in her bag haphazardly before running off down the corridor towards the library. She knew she was going to want to take her time, however.

Resituating herself against the railing, Clara folded her arms across her chest (though not in any sort of a stern manner) and frowned. "What was that all about?"

"What? Nothing. I've got no idea what you're talking about."

"Doctor…"

"It was nothing."

Clara sighed, tilting her head to one side just a little. "What happened at the Library?"

It took him a moment, but after a second the Doctor let out a shaky breath and leaned against his console, lifting his gaze towards the ceiling of his ship.

"I'd received a message on the psychic paper—it can do that, as I'm sure you know. Receive messages. Anyways. Donna and I—you remember, I told you about Donna? We headed for the Library. It was intended to be a fun trip, you know. Every book ever written at our disposal and we even had an invite. It was never intended to go wrong." The Doctor shook his head, dropping his gaze. He couldn't quite bring himself to meet Clara's eyes, however, and simply stared at her shoes.

"And what… _did_ go wrong?"

"I met a woman there. Professor River Song. A brilliant woman, if not a little feisty—we were always neck and neck at every turn but we _always_ wound up working together in the end. She was from my future—knew everything about me. But she was at the end of her timeline, and there was nothing to be done about that, frankly." His tone grew tense. "You can't stop it when it's someone's time to die, not every time."

"…She died at your first meeting with her?"

"Unfortunately, yes." The Doctor sighed, turning around to his console and giving his ship's controls more interest than what was strictly necessary. "There are these creatures called the Vashta Nerada, much like piranhas—so tiny that a cluster of them appears as a shadow to the naked eye. They'll devour a whole human body in a second flat, though. They're dangerous. And they began to devour everyone in that Library, and in a panic the computer of that Library set all the teleporters off at once. But with nowhere to send anyone, it saved them, like emails ready to be fired off. So, River did it. Set it up to fire off all those teleporters and bring everyone back out. She had to hook herself up to the computer to do it, unfortunately. Caused a blip in the system to set the plan off. The computer burned her up, destroyed her whole body, and there was nothing to be done about it. Everyone knows that everyone dies, after all."

A small pang of pain hit Clara in the chest, an ache of dread taking over. It must have been awful—not only for the Doctor, but for River, as well. To add insult to injury, not only did she have to deal with the trauma of the Library, it seemed, but she had to face someone she cared for deeply not being able to look at her with the slightest bit of recognition. It was the same way for the Major—she took it in stride, she could hide it, of course, but Clara saw that, that tiny twinge of distress creeping up on her and showing in her eyes.

"I saved her," the Doctor cut in suddenly, startling her from her thoughts. "In the future I gave her my modified sonic so that I could save her consciousness to the Library computer. And that's all that could be done. I'll be damned if I just _let_ her die without doing a thing."

"It's good that you did that, you know," Clara replied. "If at some point something could be done for her in there, I think she'd be thankful to find herself alive. And certainly, she's got family and loved ones elsewhere, too, that would be more than grateful to you for it in such a case as well."

"Yeah." The Doctor nodded, saying nothing more. Nothing else really needed to be said, and thankfully, nothing else would be said on the subject matter as the Major arrived into the console room, holding the book she'd been asked for.

"So I got the thing," the Major began, tossing the book to him and earning an indignant squawk from Clara ("Don't throw books around like that!")

"Thanks plenty," the Doctor replied, tossing the book to the captain's chair. "I'll read that later."

Watching him, the Major took her seat back where she had been before, Clara moving to accommodate for her. As soon as she was settled, the major leaned down, speaking to Clara in a low, hushed tone. "So what did he want to talk to you about?"

"Never mind, I'll tell you later."

As much as the Doctor wanted to whip around and reply, 'No, you won't', he refrained.

* * *

A/N: sorry this chapter is nothing but a big mess of river feels  
i've recently realized that i've unintentionally put in a ton of foreshadowing in to this story? especially with clara's relationship with river in the future (brodi knows what i'm talking about wink wonk)  
but this whole chapter is actually extremely important  
probably not to anything that i'll ever write again in this story, and definitely not in the au sequel i plan on doing, but particularly important to clara's own future

yeah so  
have that

please review, especially if you've been silently sitting around and reading, because i really love getting reviews and as much as i appreciate all the constant reviews and feedback from mayfairy, some from other people would be 110% appreciated because i love you all  
and if you're still not going to review then *slides a plate of jaffa cakes towards you* what about now?¿?¿?¿?¿?¿


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N**: so I don't normally like to put in any author's notes before the chapter itself, but I felt it totally necessary to let you all know that this chapter features Aliya, or Aliyanadevoralundar, from MayFairy's stories- primarily _Deafening Silence_  
her writing is really good and aliya is an outstanding character, and you really all should go read it  
special thanks to her for letting me use Aliya, too! :

* * *

Spinning around the console, the Doctor pulled a few levers.

"Right, here we are. Luna University." As the familiar grinding of the engines resonated, the Doctor folded his arms across his chest and leaned his hip against the console. The Major hopped down from the railing, grabbing her bag from it and slinging it over her shoulder.

"I'll catch up with you two later," she reassured, hopping over to the Doctor and Clara (who sat in the captain's chair, watching the Time Lady curiously.)

"Don't mention that we were here, alright?" The Doctor warned. "I don't particularly want to deal with _three_ women on the ship at once."

"Then you hurry up and get out of here. Now that she's heard the old girl, I wouldn't doubt she'll come busting in here and causing all sorts of problems." With a pleased little smile, the Major tapped the Doctor right on the nose. "She's a funny woman like that." And with that, the Time Lady slipped out of the TARDIS doors, and the Doctor immediately began to pull the levers down again, getting them out of there as soon as he could.

* * *

"Was that the TARDIS I heard?" River asked, pushing open the door to the front lobby of the university and confronting her old friend.

"No, it was Abraham Lincoln's space carriage," the Major replied, voice rife with sarcasm before continuing on a more serious note. "I told him to hurry out of here. He's awfully early in his timeline, you know, he's not supposed to meet you yet."

"How early, exactly?"

"He's got Clara with him."

River immediately brightened up. "And you didn't let me see them?"

"You _know_ you're not supposed to meet her till Avalon," the Major reminded her.

"Oh, but that was _ages_ ago, I've been _dying_ to see what she's like so young again. Who's to say I didn't meet her before then, hmm?"

"Fine, later. We'll see them again later, I promise."

River was quite content with that.

* * *

Returning from the long corridor of the TARDIS, Clara returned empty-handed not five minutes after the Doctor had asked her to go put the book he'd asked the Major for back.

"So! How does Disneyland on Saturn sound? They've got the absolute _best_ chips in the universe—oh, and just _wait_ till you see Epcot!" The Doctor pulled down a few levers, and punched in a few coordinates, looking over at Clara with a particularly expectant grin. To be honest, it was good to see him back to his old self.

"You seem to have brightened considerably now that the Major's gone," she observed.

"She made me uneasy. You know I don't like meeting people who know things about me that maybe I don't even know." He seemed to sober for just a moment, but was quick to return to the old girl's console.

"Well, Disneyland on Saturn sounds absolutely fantastic, but I wouldn't suppose you'd mind dropping me back at home for the time being, would you?" Clara asked. "I'd like to pick up a few things."

"Nah, never a problem! All of time and space, you know, we've got all the time in the world and more."

"So what's 'all the time in the world' really like, huh?" Clara leaned over the railing up at the second level of the console room, not yet having crossed the short flight of stairs down, and watched him with a particularly curious sort of look. "What's the end of the world really like?"

"Oh, come on, I can't give you _that_ much." The Doctor scoffed. "I know travelling with me is like one big spoiler, but at least let me keep the major things a surprise."

"_'Spoilers'_—I like that," Clara remarked, ignoring the rest of his statement. "Might have to start using that."

"You know, Professor Song's already beaten you to the punch."

"Has she now?"

"Mhmm."

Clara grinned. "Sounds like a woman I'd like to meet."

"Stick around then, I expect she'll pop up sometime."

With a sort of light-footedness in her step, Clara hurried down the staircase, swinging a little on the railing at the very end of her descent. "So—Cardiff, yeah?"

"Cardiff," the Doctor confirmed, finishing up with the coordinates change. "Give me an address."

Clara gladly complied and the Doctor punched the location in, pulling down one last lever. The whole ship shook, the way it normally did, the familiar grinding of engines ringing along with it as the TARDIS slowly appeared in front of Clara's second-story flat in Cardiff.

"Here we are!" The Doctor grinned, inspecting his work on the monitors. "How long to you expect to be?"

"Ten minutes at the very most," Clara replied, and, in a ribbing manner, added, "I know home much you hate to wait, I won't be _too_ long."

"Good, you'd better not." As serious as his expression was as he gave her a pointed look, his tone was particularly lax, and Clara laughed as she slipped out the TARDIS doors.

* * *

About four minutes into packing up a small bag, Clara heard the TARDIS leave.

This, of course, was hardly a good thing. A small pool of dread welled up in the pit of her stomach and she stood up straight from the duffel bag on her bed she was bent over, a frown crossing her features. Shortly afterwards—hardly even half a minute—the whirring of the TARDIS engines could be heard again. Curiosity piqued, Clara moved down the hallway for the front door and pulled it open.

Sure enough, the TARDIS was still there, but if Clara were being perfectly honest, it looked at least the tiniest bit more worn. Curious.

Without warning, the doors were tossed open. Next to a gangly, floppy-haired man in a tweed suit and ridiculous bowtie with a positively juvenile grin on his square-ish face stood a young blonde girl Clara had never seen before, looking remarkably different from herself— hair just shorter than Clara's own shoulder-length hair with a gentler curl, she donned a mostly denim outfit and unreasonably bright pink converse to top it all off.

"Clara!" The man stepped out of the box, crossing the short distance to Clara's front door and tugging the harried-looking blonde into his arms.

"Um—hello to you too…" In a somewhat awkward gesture, Clara patted his back gently and hesitantly, attempting to piece everything together in her mind. "…Doctor?"

"Yes, that's me. A bit different, wouldn't you think? I still don't know what to think about the chin." After a moment of consideration, he added, "I've had worse."

"The bowtie is… interesting."

"Is that a good interesting or a bad interesting?"

"_Interesting_."

Okay, fair enough. "I like it. Bowties are cool."

"You know, I suppose it could be something worse."

"What do you mean by that?" The Doctor looked genuinely wounded.

"Never mind, dear." Peering around him, Clara locked eyes with the other in the TARDIS, who gave a tiny (if not somewhat awkward) wave. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Oh? Oh! Aliya, come here!" Grinning madly once again, the gangly man bounded over to his ship and tugged his newfound companion from her spot in the doorway. "Clara, this is Aliyanadevoralundar. You can call her Aliya. Amy and Rory are out on their honeymoon for the time being, you're going to need to take a rain check on meeting them…" The Doctor seemed to be trying his genuine hardest to keep thoughts of what they might be doing at bay.

"Aliyanadevoralundar? Where are you from, then, with a name like that?" Clara inquired, politely shaking the other's hand. Aliya glanced at the Doctor, looking for approval, and he gave it with a tiny nod.

"Gallifrey," she replied, and Clara stopped short.

"She's—" The smaller blonde looked to the Doctor.

"A Time Lady, yes. Meaning the Major and I aren't the only ones."

"I thought the Major said she had a friend or two, though."

The Doctor grimaced. "Spoilers."

"There's that word again. You used it not ten minutes ago."

"Did I?" The Doctor frowned, looking genuinely puzzled for a moment, before brightening considerably. "Oh! _That's_ where we are! Here, come on, come on!" Without warning, he snatched up Clara's hand, tugging her along with Aliya in tow. "I have this thing to show you—we didn't _mean_ to show up on your doorstep, we were trying for somewhere else."

"Oh, what a surprise." Honestly, it came as no shock to Clara at all.

"See, we were _trying_ to go to New New South Wales—lovely place. They established it on this planet called Aldaear, which is where they established the _first_ New New York. Nothing like the New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New York on New Earth. I mean, it's a lot like it, but it's a lot less… new." As soon as they were in the TARDIS, he let go of Clara's hand and closed the door behind Aliya, spinning up the glass floor to the console. The entirety of the inside of the TARDIS was different and unfamiliar and, admittedly, unsettling to Clara. "Speaking of New New York, I wonder how it's doing? Aliya, remind me to take you later."

"He never lets me get a word in edge-wise," Aliya remarked quietly to Clara before crossing up to join the other Gallifreyan at the console.

"What?" The Doctor looked up from all his lever-pulling. "What did you say, Aliya?"

"Me? Nothing. Must have just been the engines you heard," she lied.

The Doctor watched her for a moment, almost completely nonplussed, before turning back to the consoles with a simple, "Okay."

Humming some foreign tune as Clara moved to lean against the railing and Aliya began to assist in the piloting, the Doctor continued on with his lever-pulling, punching in the correct coordinates for New New South Wales and hoping the old girl would comply this time.

"So, Doctor, how long has it been since we travelled together?" Clara asked eventually, breaking the silence between them.

"Not too terribly long. Maybe 50 years."

"That seems like a short amount of time between companions for you."

He gave a tiny hum, but it was hardly melodic, and lacked his usual enthusiasm. "It was a little less after Rose."

"Who _was_ Rose?"

Before the Doctor had the chance to answer, Aliya cut in, knowing from what Jack had showed her that this conversation could only go downhill fast. "Doctor, could you get the blue stabilizers over there?"

"Do you mean the blue boringers?"

"For once I'd actually like a smooth landing, can you just get them?"

With a peevish motion, the Doctor harshly tugged the blue lever down, giving Aliya a pointed glare the entire time.

"Thank you, Doctor."

Not long after, the TARDIS landed—to be frank, Clara couldn't even tell, and she made a mental note to remember the 'blue boringers' for future reference. A smooth landing was, in fact, pleasant. With a particular hop in his step, the Doctor bounded over to the TARDIS doors, tossing them open to reveal a bright looking desert city—however, aside from the fact that the entire city was surrounded by something much like the Outback, the place appeared much like an oasis, as well—there was a large fountain in the center with wildly blue water, and a system of canals much akin to that of the one in Italy with water the same deep blue shade. Large, towering metal buildings lined the streets with silver archways crossing from place to place, all of it glimmering in the glaring sunlight, and above massive airships with elegant wings and massive bodies drifted leisurely along. New New South Wales was hardly what she expected, and was beautiful indeed.

"Here we are! New Sidney, state capital of New New South Wales. I love this city. It's awfully small compared to most of the others in human empires in space, but it's one of the prettiest." The Doctor spun out of his TARDIS, looking expectantly to his companions. "Well, come along then!"

The two followed after him, neither pausing particularly long to question his boisterous and exuberant attitude (Aliya was used to it by now and Clara, well, who was she to question it?) Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his tweed jacket top, the Doctor looked up to the airships with a particular sort of admiration for them while the two women followed behind. Aliya, who'd been ages ago in a previous incarnation, wasn't quite as awestruck as the other two (the Doctor had been, of course, many times, but that didn't change the fact that he positively loved it.) Clara, on the other hand, was constantly having to catch herself to run along and catch up to the other two, frequently watching the vendors on the streets and the airships overhead and the absolute splendor of the city in general.

"Come on, Clara, we haven't got all day!" The Doctor called out, a few meters ahead of her.

"Says Mr. 'All The Time In The World' over here," the smaller blonde shot back, quickening her pace to match with the Doctor's long, lively strides. Aliya beside her had long since removed her denim jacket, and Clara was quickly considering doing the same with her baby blue hoodie, light as it was under the blistering desert heat.

"I was more patient than I'd like to admit in my last regeneration, I think," the Doctor remarked, scratching the back of his neck; the man walked backwards to face the two, and it was a miracle he'd not tripped over something and landed ass-first on the pavement yet.

"What was he like back then?" Aliya asked, never having met her Time Lord counterpart's Tenth regeneration.

"Fantastic," Clara replied. "Tall and lanky—probably the skinniest man I've ever met—with a certain bounce about him, a certain vivacity. Oh, he's definitely more suave than this one, though, believe me." She glanced fleetingly at the other Doctor, who just squawked indignantly, with a particularly teasing look on her face. "A good man, though. Cool and collected and one of the happiest people I've met, which is always good. Has a particular fondness and appreciation for the finer scholarly things in life, though, I rather like that."

"I _definitely_ look forward to meeting him, then," Aliya replied, glancing over at her Doctor, who raised an eyebrow at her.

"Who said you would?"

"Who said I wouldn't?"

"Foreknowledge _is_ a dangerous thing," Clara put in, and the Doctor grinned.

"Yes! You said the same thing to me a while ago. Well, a while ago for me, _way_ far ahead in your future."

A part of Clara was discreetly a bit comforted by the idea of travelling with him far into her future. "Well, it's true, you know. And—well, I suppose I shouldn't assume too much about your meeting, should I? But if you met her in this regeneration, then it would be anything but a good thing to have her meet your last one."

The Doctor gave Aliya a pointed look, and she rolled her eyes.

"Okay, you both pose excellent points, but that doesn't mean I won't meet him eventually," Aliya continued. "What about when I regenerate? What if my next incarnation meets your last one? You won't have to recognize me or anything."

"Let's wait and see, then! I don't know any more about your future than either of you do." Spinning around on his heel, the Doctor peered around a street. "Come on, there's this restaurant not too far from here that serves the absolute _best_ chips in the universe."

"I thought those were at that little shop on the boardwalk of Hawaii in 5013?" Aliya raised an eyebrow.

"_I_ thought it was Disneyland on Saturn," Clara put in, unable to help the tiniest of smirks as the Doctor scoffed.

"Yes, and then I had these," he replied quite simply, and continued on. "The best _burger_, though, is in—"

He was immediately cut off by the piercing sound of overhead sirens, akin to the WWII bomb sirens, startling the trio. Turning on his heel again, the Doctor grabbed both women's hands before tugging them along into the nearest shop and out of any sort of danger.

A particularly well-sized flat-screen TV in the shop was on one of the back walls, and the few people in the shop were crowded around it, watching the emergency breaking news broadcast with deep interest. The Doctor pushed his way through the small crowd, refusing to let go of Aliya's hand for any significant amount of time (though Clara had already let go of his hand to allow the man more room to work) and, as soon as the three were up front, his attention was immediately fixed onto the broadcast.

_"Officials are telling civilians to stay inside, remaining on the ground level of the building. No attacks seem to have been made so far—" _Images of an airship coming dangerously close to the people below began to play on the screen, replacing the face of the new reporter. _"—but the attackers have control of three other airships; two of said airships are military based and fully functional for aerial attack, and government officials are warning civilians to be wary of dropping bombs. The identity of the attackers is unknown, being of an unidentifiable species, but we have been provided with this audio recording."_

The new voice on the television actually, properly made the Doctor's blood run cold.

_"We have wrested control of three airships from your people_,_"_ the voice of a Dalek rang out, _"And we are currently contacting your Senate building as we speak. If we cannot gain control over at least half of your nation state of New New South Wales by noon, we _will_ bring down our first building."_

The Doctor glanced at the clock—11:10 AM.

"Come on." Quickly, he grabbed Aliya's hand again, immediately afterwards grabbing Clara's and running out the small shop without another word.

"Are you kidding? You're throwing us all right into the face of danger by dragging us out here," Clara protested, making a particularly meek attempt to tug her hand back. The Doctor whipped around, dropping both their hands and facing her fully.

"Clara, I understand that at this point in your timeline you've never _once_ faced the Daleks, but believe me, if we don't get into that Senate building and stop them within 50 minutes, there will be more civilian casualties than you've ever even _heard_ about, Clara, and you may very well be one of them just for staying in this city." Of course, he knew for a fact she didn't die here, and that was just a small benefit to being from someone's future, but at the same time he couldn't risk her doing something to cost him the whole city just because she refused to come along.

Clearly, the Doctor's words struck a nerve, and Clara swallowed hard, giving a tiny nod. "I—fine. But don't think I don't know at least a _little_ about the Daleks, you and the Major talked about them briefly. And they're _dangerous_, Doctor, and you _know_ that. Don't jump headfirst into this."

"Wait—the Major?" Aliya turned to the Doctor, briefly changing the subject. "Why haven't I heard about a Major?"

"Long story. There'll be time for that later, Aliya, and I promise this won't be a subject left untouched, but right now we need to focus on the matter at hand."

The Time Lady nodded, and turned to her smaller counterpart next to her to give a look of approval, a tiny gesture intended to reassure the human that the Doctor knew that he was doing. Returning the look with a tiny, worried frown of her own, Clara began to follow after the Gallifreyans as they strode towards the TARDIS.

* * *

**A/N**: so honestly this wasn't expected to go up today? because i didn't expect it would be finished by today?¿?¿  
but i've been able to put some foreshadowing in here i suppose  
(i can't wait to get to use river she's my absolute favorite)

also i really do hope you guys will check out mayfairy's story, it's really fantastic and i've been enjoying it a lot uvu

and in case you guys haven't caught the drift  
some reviews would be really great  
i.e. please review because i expect i'll probably post so frequently more often if you guys motivate me to do so  
(thanks ilu all)


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N**: you guys know i don't like to do author's notes in the beginning of chapters but i just wanted to let you guys know that i changed the last chapter in which i introduced aliya because i was under the allusion that aliya's hair was way longer than it is  
but that's been rectified

also shameless self promotion time  
i've started a sweeney todd fanfic and if it gets popular i'll probably make it a second main story like pages  
so you guys should check that out

* * *

The tension in the Senate room was so thick you probably could have cut right through it with a knife.

"Your Highness, with all due respect, if the invading forces were strong enough to snatch three airships from under our noses without even trying, then just imagine what they'd do when infuriated!" One of the Senate members addressed a darker-skinned young woman in a long, black dress, accented with a deep maroon color. She was, honestly, the most striking one in the room.

"Just because we've got hostages held against us, doesn't mean we should be so quick to surrender," the woman insisted, looking to her tall, lanky counterpart for advice.

"She's right. If we cave so quickly, then the whole country is at risk, and soon, the whole planet." The man adjusted his tie, giving a particularly concerned frown. "This isn't a decision to be made in such a small amount of time, we've got to beg for more."

"If we don't surrender, hundreds will die!" Another Senate member remarked, practically addressing the darker-skinned woman directly.

"And if we do surrender, millions will lose their nation!" She snapped back.

All conversation was brought to an abrupt halt when the doors were quickly thrown open, a gangly Doctor standing dead-center in the entryway with his two companions flanking him. The room went silent.

After eying him for a moment, the woman found her voice. "Doctor?"

"Liz!" With a broad grin, the Doctor crossed the room in a few long strides, tugging her into an unexpected hug that had the whole room tensed (and admittedly, a little on edge.)

"It's good to see you again, mate," she replied, somewhat awkwardly, and gave him a tiny pat on the back. The Doctor pulled back, grin ever-present, and beckoned for his companions to join him.

"Clara, Aliya, this is Liz 10," he introduced, gesturing to the woman. "Better known as Queen Elizabeth X."

Clara practically choked. "You're the _queen_?"

"Right," Liz replied, a somewhat smug grin crossing her features. "Basically, I rule."

"I've heard stories about you," Aliya admitted, the Doctor having mentioned his visit to Starship UK in passing.

"Have you?" The Queen looked genuinely surprised by this. "Not particularly good ones, I expect."

"That's debatable."

"What are you doing all the way in New Australia?" The Doctor interjected, tilting his head a little. "I'd expect you'd be back on Starship UK."

"Australia's always been a British commonwealth. Don't see why it should stop now."

"How long have you known about the Dalek invasion, then?" Aliya asked, curious. She'd sure gotten down here awfully fast.

"Three hours now," Liz replied. "Is that what they're called, then? Daleks? I expect that means you're familiar with them."

The Doctor nodded to Liz before turning to Aliya to reply. "Ever since human settlement on Aldaear, Starship UK has begun a very loose orbit around the planet. It moves upon settlement on New Earth, though."

"Why do we settle a new planet, exactly?" Liz interjected, and the Doctor shook his head.

"Spoilers."

Clara didn't miss the way Aliya's expression seemed to grow just a little more smug, but let it go none the less.

"Your Highness, who exactly _are_ these people?" the Queen's lanky friend asked, eying the gangly tweed-suited man.

"This is the Doctor," Liz began. "He's very old, and wise, and I expect he's come to help us through this disaster. He usually does."

The Doctor gave a fond smile, watching Liz for just a fraction of a moment before turning to the lanky man. "I'm sorry, I never did catch your name."

"Harrison Spade," the man replied. "Prime Minister of New Australia."

"Shouldn't you be in New Canberra, then?"

"They had me flown out here as soon as trouble erupted. Most of the Senate was already here, so that wasn't an issue."

"Yes, you seem to be missing…" the Doctor counted the five Senate members present. "Two members. Where are they?"

"Back in New Canberra, keeping some order around there. We didn't think it a good idea to have everyone in one place at once."

"And yet you gathered the Queen, and the Prime Minister, and well over half the Senate?" Clara raised an eyebrow.

"We didn't necessarily ask for Liz," Harrison replied, glancing over at the woman, and after a moment of consideration, added, "Though it's not as though her presence isn't appreciated."

The Queen seemed to soften considerably at his words, before turning back to the Doctor. "If you couldn't tell by now, the entire room has been at an impasse over our decision for quite some time now."

"Nothing I can't fix," the Doctor reassured, straightening his bowtie. "So, the issue is what to do about the Daleks, I assume?"

"A good majority of the Senate wants to surrender to spare casualties within New Sidney, but a few of us—myself and the Queen included—have been arguing to save the entire country instead, and… well, to be frank, if we can't come to an unanimous decision by noon, then it won't matter much, will it?" Harrison explained, and as he went on through his speech, his expression grew more and more anxious with every word.

"Surrender," the Doctor said simply, and Aliya let out an indignant cry from behind him.

"Do you think surrendering would do any good? The Daleks would kill everyone anyways!"

"You don't _know_ that, Aliya!" The Doctor snapped, whipping around to face her. "What happens when hundreds of civilian lives are lost just because you told them not to surrender?"

"What happens when _another_ planet is lost because of the Daleks?!"

That one hit home, and the Doctor was visibly quite hurt. Clara decided it was about time to interject.

"Stop it, both of you; I don't know what happened with the Daleks and your planet but this arguing is getting absolutely nowhere."

"…She _is_ right, you know—if they don't fight back and an entire planet is lost to the Daleks, that's on me. Again. And I can't take that." The Doctor swallowed hard.

"No—no, god, that was an awful thing of me to say, it just sort of came out, and—" When she paused, the Doctor looked at her expectantly, and she resigned, deflating visibly. "And I'm sorry."

The Doctor began to brighten unexpectedly, though it lacked his usual exuberance—perhaps a part of it was the smugness that came from hearing Aliya apologize for once, an occurrence that only happened once in a blue moon, or perhaps a part of it was the willpower to focus on the situation at hand as opposed to heartbreak and bickering. "You know what?" He smiled at Aliya, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Let's forget about it."

"Agreed."

Clara brightened considerably. "Good! Now, come on, I want both of you putting out some good ideas, no more bickering."

The Doctor turned his gaze to her, regarding her fondly; she had a unique personality, she really did, and _god_ how he'd missed that woman. Quickly, however, his green eyes darted back to the other Time Lady present. "Aliya? I want your input on this, you know, you've got quite the brilliant mind and I won't have you sitting around quietly during this whole ordeal."

"Who said I was going to sit around quietly?" Aliya remarked; he knew full well that if anything, she'd find a way to make some snarky comment in reply to whatever he said.

"Okay, you know what I mean," the Doctor replied, rolling his eyes. "Come on, ideas! Give me some ideas!"

After a moment of consideration, Aliya turned to Harrison. "Do you have a way to get onto those ships?"

"You could use the transmats," the Prime Minister replied. "But those are all down at the moment."

Immediately, Clara straightened up, expression revealing that with the gears turning in her head, something clicked. "How did the Daleks get onto those ships, do you know?"

"The transmats," one of the Senate members replied.

"They connected their own transmat system to ours," Harrison elaborated. "They work much like a Wi-Fi system so that any ship within orbit of a planet can hook up to their transmat system and beam down. Or two ships particularly close to each other can exchange passengers. It's worked miracles in emergencies."

"They're intended to work only with a mutual connection from both sides, though." Liz frowned. "Meaning either they hacked the system or our transmat operators were working with the invaders. A matter which will certainly be investigated once the impending tragedy at hand is under control."

"So, in theory, we could take the transmats up there—provided we could fix them—" Clara knew the sonic would have that under control in a matter of minutes—"And we could shut down their technology and send them back to their own ships?"

"Yes, but shutting their own systems down would be easier said than done," Harrison replied.

"Actually, we've got this virus stored on a hard drive that we could upload remotely once you gave the signal that could give us brief control of their systems before shutting down their ships entirely," Liz remarked. "And that way, we neither have to bring in military force nor surrender." No one in the room seemed to miss the way the Queen shot a bitter glare to the rest of the Senate.

"We'd still need a way to connect to the Dalek ships. They'll need open systems, which means someone would have get onto their ship an open their systems up."

"No we won't," Clara interjected. "Potentially, at least. Are the transmats hooked up to any other systems?"

"Ours aren't," Harrison explained. "But transmat systems require a large computer network to hook up to, and a ship only has room to hook it up to the main computer system."

"_Perfect_." Aliya grinned. "Then we could use the transmat connection they created to upload the virus to their systems, right?"

"Exactly." Clara beamed.

The Doctor nodded curtly in understanding. "So then, in that case we'll—"

Aliya cut him off quickly. "No. Doctor, I want you staying here with the TARDIS. I may know how to pilot her, but she's got vast machinery that you're more familiar with than I am, and we may need your help."

Frowning, the Doctor considered turning her offer down altogether, but decided otherwise. "Okay."

"Clara and I will take the transmat systems up to the main ship and reverse all their transmat systems," Aliya continued.

"Wait." Frowning, Clara glanced back at the Time Lady. "Won't we need a way to get them onto the transmat systems…?"

"No, actually!" Harrison grinned. "The systems have a particular fail safe to lock onto a specific species. So as long as it has the species in its database, you can have it transport every member of the species in the region without having them on the transmat pads themselves."

"And if it doesn't have the species…?" Clara frowned, looking considerably worried.

"You can use almost any device to scan the species and upload it to the transmat system."

Aliya shot a knowing look at Clara—the sonic. "Sounds like a plan, then."

"Are you sure you won't need any backup? We can have an entire military's worth of resource at your side at any moment," Liz offered, but Aliya shook her head.

"The Doctor will be backup enough. Here." Her hand diving into her pocket, Aliya fished out a com unit she'd been holding onto, and looked to the Doctor, who pulled out one of his own. Wordlessly, they synced the com units up, an action that took hardly half a minute. "Use this to keep in touch. We're going to want you to help us get that virus running, and we're potentially going to need you to close down outgoing transmats to the city just in case they try to escape."

The Doctor nodded, fiddling with his com unit. "Got it. Are you sure you won't need anything else?"

"We'll be fine, don't worry."

"Alright. Good luck then, both of you." He looked to Aliya, then to Clara, and was just about to let them go, but realization suddenly crossed his face. "Oh! Clara!"

"Yes?"

"Check your pockets!"

Frowning in confusion, the human went through the two front pockets of her hoodie, finding nothing, and then through the inside pockets—as soon as her hand went into the inner right pocket, it connected with something light and metal that had previously gone undetected, and Clara pulled it out, producing the Doctor's—her Doctor, the one previous to the incarnation with the silly bowtie—sonic screwdriver. Both she and Aliya shared equally baffled looks.

"How did she get a sonic screwdriver…?" Aliya asked. Sure, she had one of her own, but the TARDIS had given it to her—she was a Time Lady, after all, and while at times she'd much prefer a laser screwdriver instead, the sonic was a both equally powerful and dangerous tool that couldn't be trusted in the hands of many others.

"It was mine," the Doctor replied. "I didn't give it to her—the TARDIS did. Even if I'd have known it would come in handy, I probably still wouldn't have given it to her. Too dangerous to give to a _human_." After a moment of consideration, he added, "No offense."

Clara raised an eyebrow, giving him a look that wasn't entirely too happy. "None taken," she replied dryly, but they both knew it wasn't true.

"None the less, it's yours to keep! Until you get back to your own Doctor, that is. I mean, I have no use for two sonic screwdrivers, but believe me, I was _not_ pleased to find I didn't have any."

"I'll be sure to return it as soon as possible, then," Clara replied before looking to Aliya, giving her a curious look. "Are you ready?"

"Absolutely." Aliya grinned.

The transmat systems were completely foreign to Clara. That was to be expected, of course, but it didn't help that they seemed rather foreign to Aliya as well.

"I haven't used one of these in _ages_…" Scratching the back of her neck, the Time Lady frowned.

"That's not exactly reassuring, you know."

"I _know_, but—I mean, you can't really blame me!" She had been locked up in a mountain for what was probably hundreds of years, after all. Not that Clara needed to know that.

"How come?" Clara frowned.

"Never mind," Aliya replied absently, fiddling with the controls. "Oh—here we are, now I remember! Alright, we've got to get these all fixed now before we can actually use them." Ushering Clara out of the way, Aliya aimed her sonic at the controls, and then at the transmat pad itself, using it relentlessly before finally giving up and frowning at her sonic. "It's not powerful enough."

"Here." Clara pulled the sonic the TARDIS had lent her out of her pocket, and made a move to hand it to Aliya, but the Time Lady shook her head.

"You use it."

Nodding curtly, Clara aimed her own blue-lighted sonic at the machine, and in unison they worked the sonics, finally hearing the satisfying 'ping' of the machine as the touch-screen controls next to the transmat became fully functional.

"Fantastic!" Aliya grinned, pocketing her own sonic, and Clara did the same as the Time Lady stepped forwards to the controls, punching a few buttons. "Okay… I've properly connected to the ship."

"So the transmat is fully functional now?"

"Exactly." When Aliya pressed one last button, the entire transmat pad lit up a bright blue, save for the metal ring around the pad itself. "I'll go first, to make sure there isn't any danger. You know. With a Time Lady body and all, I am a little more resilient to danger."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Clara frowned, almost wishing she wasn't stuck with a simple human vessel, but quickly reconsidered her own thoughts.

Wordlessly, Aliya moved towards the pad, stepping onto it, and after shooting one last reassuring smile at Clara, she vanished.

* * *

**A/N**: so  
sorry this chapter was shorter than i'd wanted it to be  
but

i hope you guys like it  
i really like this plot and i'm really glad to have liz 10 make an appearance  
also for you readers of 'deafening silence', aliya is set right before new new york and after the bronxites

yeah

please review because i love reviews a lot and i want to know what you guys think of it like wow i love you guys heaps but stop being so quiet

and yeah  
ilu all


	22. Chapter 22

The airship was mostly empty, a particularly surprising revelation considering that the airship Aliya had sent herself up to was the largest there, the one the Daleks were using as a home base.

When she decided the coast was clear, the Time Lady took her sonic out once more and aimed it at the transmat, sending off a signal to Clara on the ground below. Not a moment later, the human joined her side.

"It's all safe to proceed then, I assume?"

Aliya nodded. "Yeah. Here—it looks like the hallways are actually rather abandoned, so if we carry on quietly through them, we should be able to get to the helm of the ship and send them off pretty quickly."

"Do you know where the piloting room is, then?"

"The airships over Aldaear all have the same basic floor plan, so it shouldn't be hard to find it."

"You've been, then?"

"Once before," the Time Lady replied as they began to move down the corridor. "I was a lot younger. Different face, different time. You know."

"You and the Doctor talk about regeneration all the time." Frowning, Clara turned to the older. "What exactly _is_ regeneration?"

"Time Lords have a very unique ability to rebuild their entire body in death," Aliya explained. "Our entire structures change—we essentially become another human being. Personalities can differ, too; I mean, that's what happens when your entire brain changes."

"Well—I mean, I'd gleaned that much. The changing part, I mean. But… death? Really?"

"Really."

"That sounds awful," Clara admitted, and Aliya said nothing.

The two continued on like that for a while, silently making their way down the corridor. Eventually, upon glancing down the hallway, Aliya caught sight of a door and frowned.

"Hang on, I want to check this out," Aliya insisted, hurrying ahead.

With a flick of the sonic, the Time Lady opened the door and stepped inside, Clara close behind her, and stepped out onto a small balcony overhanging the boiler room below. Dozens of humans worked the engines, keeping them running, with a good number of Daleks keeping watch over them. The sight honestly made Aliya's blood run cold.

"They're practically working them like slaves," she breathed, disgusted. Glancing around, her eyes caught sight of a staircase. "Come on."

"Aliya, we're going to get caught!" Clara protested, following behind all the same.

"No we won't." The Time Lady moved down the stairs, carefully avoiding the sight of the Daleks, and with care as to not be seen, snuck over to a woman dirtied by soot and sweat. "Ma'am—how many of you all _are_ there?"

The woman stopped short, looking remarkably like a deer caught in the headlights. "You—are you here to save us?"

"We are," Aliya confirmed, and repeated her question. "How many of the civilian passengers are there?"

"Two hundred," the woman replied. "There's that many per ship, if I'm correct… Not all of them are here. Many are running computer systems or being locked up as prisoners by these god-awful creatures."

Clara nodded in understanding. "If you think they're getting away with this, you're wrong. You'll all be free in a matter of moments, I promise."

"Thank you," the woman replied, the tone in her voice sincere. With fear of getting the pair of women caught, she hurried away, returning to her job, and the two blondes quietly slipped up the staircase.

As soon as they were out, Aliya closed the door, immediately letting her head drop down against it as she squeezed her eyes shut, making a noise of anguish.

"It's awful in there! I've known the Daleks to do some terrible things, sure, but taking hundreds of human prisoners is a new low for them!"

"And that's exactly why we're here to liberate the ships," Clara reassured, frowning. "And we're not going to get anywhere with you slamming your head against the door."

Shooting the human an irritated and somewhat grief-stricken scowl, Aliya pushed off from the door and continued down the hallway wordlessly.

"What did the Daleks do, anyways?" Clara asked; Aliya and the Doctor had been awfully skittish since they first heard the voice over the newscast, and if anything, it was flat-out worrying to Clara.

It took Aliya an awfully long time to respond, but when she did, her voice was grave and quiet. "They're the reason Gallifrey was lost."

Hearing that was like a punch in the gut to Clara, and with sympathy and dread washing over her, she watched the Time Lady.

"They instigated the Time War," Aliya continued. "And Gallifrey had to be locked away for the rest of time. And now the Doctor and I are the only Time Lords not hidden away from the universe. And it had to be done, too, otherwise the entire universe would have been lost. And which would you rather, the universe or your planet?"

Clara took that as a rhetorical question, but responded to Aliya's comment about the Time Lords instead. "You're not the only ones, you know."

For the first time, Aliya looked at her, the expression in her eyes somewhat of a mix between confusion and hope.

"There was this Time Lady we met back in Italy," Clara continued on. "And she said there might be others. Last I saw her, she was off visiting some professor at Luna University. I'm sure the Doctor's seen her since, but not, evidently, since you've been with him."

"I'll have to ask him about her," Aliya replied quietly. To be honest, the prospect of an entire universe with only one other person in the whole of it that was a part of her species was not a terribly inviting one.

Soon, the voice of a Dalek could be heard, and before either could dive for cover, two Daleks rounded the corner and spotted the pair.

"_Shit_." Clara ground her teeth, looking the creatures over now that they could be seen from a much closer proximity—they looked much like a pepper shaker, with a whisk and a plunger attached to it, and the creatures would have been much less intimidating if they weren't barreling towards the pair, shouting all sorts of things to their counterparts across the ship.

Aliya made a move to turn and run, but another Dalek was soon cornering them from the other end of the hallway, shouting along with the pair in behind her, and before either of them knew it, the women were essentially surrounded.

"Intruders!" A Dalek shouted. "Human intruders! You will be eliminated!"

"Whatever happened to exterminated?" Aliya asked the creature, her voice cold.

"There is no need to waste our power on you!" The Dalek replied. "Lead them to the air lock!"

Three of the Daleks, aiming their whisks (which Clara had soon decided were, in fact, some sort of weaponry, as opposed to a kitchen utensil) at the pair, moved forwards, closing in on them and ushering them towards an airlock while the other Daleks dispersed. Aliya quickly decided they were the first three Daleks that had closed in on them originally, and she couldn't help but feel at least the tiniest bit bitter towards the beasts.

The walk to the airlock was completely silent, neither woman particularly wanting to speak nor any of the Daleks being especially great conversationalists. The only sounds were that of the ship itself, and the footsteps against the cold iron floor, and the sounds the Daleks made as they moved. As soon as the airlock was in sight, Clara was quick to inspect everything.

It appeared to be like a cross between the doors on airplanes that you saw in the movies that opened widely and the airlocks in some science fiction movie where a prisoner was about to be hurtled into the vacuum of space, never to return. Of course, she knew that they weren't, in fact, in the vacuum of space, but the difference in air pressure would be enough to suck anything not grounded firmly right out into the sky, hundreds of miles above the planet below. And a plan hatched.

Quickly, and without warning, Clara reached behind her and pulled out the gun wedged in the waistband of her trousers. It had been the same gun Nellie lent her, and she never did have the chance to bring it back, so she'd tucked it into her waistband before leaving for safe keeping in the hopes that maybe they'd return to Italy to give it back. However, it was going to have to come in handy here as Clara undid the safety and cocked the gun, turning to Aliya.

"Hold on."

The Time Lady obliged, completely nonplussed as she held tight to what looked like some sort of handle on the wall and Clara fired the gun at the controls on the wall, quickly doing the same. She had perhaps three or four seconds before the door reacted, opening quickly, and one of the Daleks tumbled out into the sky. Another quickly followed after, but one had begun to ground itself, aiming for the two women who were at risk of being sucked into the open expanse of the sky at any moment.

The grounded Dalek prepared to fire, and if it had succeeded, had the blast itself not killed whoever it hit, letting out would have done the trick eventually; however, Clara beat it to the punch, cocking her gun once more and shooting the Dalek right in the eyestalk. Losing its balance, and subsequentially, its grounding, the Dalek tumbled off into the sky, and the airlock began to close by default.

As soon as the airlock shut, the two women dropped to the ground, recomposing themselves. While Clara sat, rubbing her face in her hands, Aliya forced herself to stand, frowning.

"Where the hell did you get a gun?" she asked.

"Italy. Long story." Standing, the younger flicked the safety back on and returned the gun to the back of the waistband of her jeans.

To be honest, Aliya wasn't fond of guns, but there were times when they were very much needed, and unlike the Doctor, she accepted that. And there was no better time than in the face of a Dalek to use a gun, in her opinion.

"Come on, let's find the control room already. We've had entirely too many diversions and I highly doubt they'll be letting _that_ little fiasco go," Clara continued, glancing back at the Time Lady before moving down the corridor again.

* * *

The control room was not actually hard to find.

The second the women did happen to run across it, they barreled inside, particularly pleased to find it empty, and Aliya took to the computers, beginning with the reversal of the transmat. Her fingers moved quickly, pressing buttons and entering commands that Clara was entirely unfamiliar with, and no matter how good she was with computers, it was best that Aliya stick to all the transmat work.

"Uh oh."

"Uh oh?" Clara frowned.

"They haven't got Daleks registered in the system," Aliya explained. "I mean, only to be expected, but still. Uh oh."

"Do you mean to say we'll have to go out and deliberately hunt one of those awful beasts down?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Clara sighed, and Aliya separated from the computer, whipping out her sonic. "Stay close behind."

Slipping down the corridor once more, the two woman tread quietly, more keen on listening for any Daleks around then to their own footsteps. It took a moment, but finally, they could hear the mechanical motion of a Dalek rolling along, and they ducked behind a corner, waiting for it to pass.

The Dalek meandered along, seeming a little more carefree and perhaps even as close to _happy_ as the emotionless hunk of metal could get than most of the other Daleks were, and Aliya almost felt a little bad about what she was about to do, but then, it had to be done. As soon as it was in range, Aliya skid out from behind the corner, quickly scanning the shocked Dalek with her sonic before taking one long bound towards it and lifting her foot, using a considerable amount of force to push it over. The Dalek clattered to the ground with an indignant, warbled cry, squirming about on the cold iron ground as it tried pathetically to get itself sitting vertically again.

Clara couldn't help but snicker a little as they ran back to the control room, knowing full well that as soon as the Dalek could right itself—or, more likely, another Dalek stumbled upon it—they were in trouble. Aliya quickly uploaded the data to the computer, grinning widely as the data successfully loaded, and she began to continue on with her button-pressing and command-typing till the job was finished.

Soon, the computer was set to send all Daleks, on the ship they were on and the other two Australian airships, back from whence they came. With a small glance at the other woman present, Aliya pressed that one last button, and the familiar sound of transmats activating rang out throughout the ship, every last Dalek disappearing.

Soon, there was only silence, and a broad grin broke out across Clara's face.

"We did it," she breathed. "We actually did it."

"You expected any less from me?" Aliya replied, tone particularly haughty. "Now, let's get that virus sent up." Pulling the com unit from her pocket, she spoke into it. "Doctor?"

There was no response.

"Doctor, are you there?" She asked again, and still, no response came. Aliya frowned, but before she could try again, the whole ship shook, and she sprung to the controls.

"What's wrong?" Clara was quick to be at her side, looking the controls over as well, and panic washed over the Time Lady's face.

"The ship's going down, and I can't stop it," Aliya replied, fumbling uselessly with the controls. "The Daleks still have command over the ship, and they're making it crash." Quickly, she picked the com unit back up, speaking into it. "Doctor?! Doctor, pick up! We don't have time for your shenanigans!"

Dread welled up within Clara, the floor of the ship shaking gently beneath her. She could die here, and her Doctor would never have known where she went. And if Aliya couldn't get through to the daft old man, she may never have a chance for any sort of final goodbyes.

"He's not responding," Aliya managed, voice shaky and panicked. "He _always_ responds." She tried everything—using her sonic on the controls, working them by hand, trying to override the system—and nothing worked.

"Can you not regain control of it?" Clara asked, doing a remarkably good job at keeping the panic out of her voice. She looked the controls over as well, and as much as she wanted to try, she couldn't make heads or tails of any of the foreign technology, so far ahead from her future. It was like trying to pilot a plane.

Without warning, Clara left her spot from the console, and Aliya paused her work with the com unit, watching as the human hurried over to the transmat in the back of the room.

"What are you doing?" To be honest, Aliya was a little more than just worried at this point, especially for the human girl before her.

Clara ignored the question. "As soon as the ship is stable, get down to the Doctor," she instructed, looking over the buttons for just a moment before pressing one and forcing the entire transmat unit to light.

"Clara, what are you doing?" Aliya slowly began to advance towards her. "Are you insane?"

"At this point? I'm starting to think so."

The Time Lady leapt forwards to grab the other and yank her away from the transmat, but Clara had stepped onto the pad and vanished before she even got the chance.

* * *

**A/N**: so this chapter actually wound up being shorter than anticipated gomen friends  
(it's because i wound up writing a big massive 4,000 word chapter of my other fic)

also  
speakin of my other fic  
you guys should all head over and read _Poor Thing_ if you're a sweeney todd fan  
and leave some reviews  
like you should review this story

if you haven't already reviewed yet (so if you're not mayfairy) you should definitely scoot on over to the review button at the bottom of this page and stuff because reviews are really great thank you friends

so  
i actually felt really bad about writing the dalek abuse in this chapter  
not of all the other daleks they're assholes  
but the abuse of the one that aliya kicked over  
because in my head he wound up being really cute and then she just kiCKED HIM OVER AND I JUST  
poor baby  
(daleks are my favorite villains in doctor who because sometimes they're really cute and they're not actually all that frightening really but then again i think spiders are cute so i don't think my opinion counts)

okay thank you for reading friends  
please review  
and stuff


	23. Chapter 23

The Dalek ship was truly, properly frightening.

Sure, Clara had seen some scary things during her time with the Doctor—oozing creatures that became whatever they wanted and an ominous zoo that tried to snatch her best friend up before she could stop it—but there was no setting more foreboding and frightening than a Dalek war ship.

The second Clara arrived on the transmat, every gunstick was aimed right at her and she had no choice but to raise her hands in surrender, showing she had no firearm or weapon (at least, not in hand.)

"Human! Human intruder!" One of the Daleks rolled over from its spot in front of the large, expansive, high-definition screens that covered the dark wall behind the control console. Clara stepped off the transmat pad.

"I'm not here to harm you, don't worry," Clara reassured, and surprisingly, it wasn't actually a lie.

"You shall be exterminated! Exterminate. Exterminate!"

"Stop that, I've had it with your nonsense." The human scowled. "I'm here to make a deal with you."

The advancing Daleks froze. All in all, there were five in that room, which appeared to be the pilot's room, but there were likely hundred about the ship.

"Deal?"

"Yes, a deal." Taking a deep breath, Clara steeled herself before proceeding. "If you'll relinquish your command of that ship below, and promise not to let it crash… I'll bring the Doctor to you."

"You? Bring the Doctor?" The Dalek that had first approached her made a sick sort of warbled, electric sound that Clara thought might have been a laugh at some point.

"I'm serious," Clara insisted. "I'm his companion. And I'll bring him straight to you. And you can do what you like." She hated it—she hated saying every word of it. Then again, she knew the Doctor, and if that man couldn't come up with a plan for what she was about to give him, then he'd not have been able to do anything in the first place whether or not she brought him here or not.

The Daleks were silent for a moment, like they were considering her words, and suddenly one of the Daleks rolled over to the console. "We have a deal then, human."

Clara couldn't help but smile a little, till she was flanked by two Daleks forcing her over to the control console, and that smile faded completely.

"You will contact the Doctor," the Dalek at the console said. Its appearance was just a little different from the others—whereas the other Daleks had various colors for the metal of their bottom half, adorned with silver orbs, this one was pure white, and its orbs were a deep blue that Clara didn't particularly like. It made the Dalek easily distinguishable, however, and Clara at least could appreciate that, especially considering how it seemed to be of a higher rank than the others.

"How?" Clara asked. The Dalek swiveled impatiently.

"You will create a video feed and contact the Doctor." Using its manipulator arm, the Dalek pressed a number of buttons on the console, which were clearly designed more for a Daleks' plunger-like appendage, and less so for the hands of a human.

A large screen with unfamiliar technology appeared in front of Clara on the overhead screens plastered to the wall; for a brief moment, everything was written in an unfamiliar, alien language that Clara assumed was the language of the Daleks, but thankfully, the TARDIS was still close enough that it translated fairly quickly, and the jumbled mess of green symbols became readable English.

"You will create a video feed," the Dalek insisted once more, gesturing to the screen, and mulling over the buttons in her head, Clara slowly began to work something out.

* * *

Just as the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS, Aliya came barreling down the hallway at such speeds that he had to grab the Time Lady tight just to stop her, holding her by the arms at a somewhat intimate proximity.

"Aliya!" The Doctor frowned. "Aliya, what's wrong? Where's Clara?"

"She's on the ship," Aliya began vaguely, breathless and shaken.

"Ship? What ship, the airship? Is something wrong with the transmats?"

"No—no, you daft old man, the Dalek ship! She's on the Dalek ship, she was keeping the airship from crashing!"

The Doctor's blood ran cold, and he swallowed hard. "And she's just—she's stuck there?"

"Oh, I don't know! None of this would have happened if you'd just picked up; why didn't you answer your com unit, you stupid—why didn't you answer?!"

"It wasn't working." Pulling the unit out of his pocket, he held it up. All that came from it was static, and Aliya let out a defeated cry of anguish.

Interrupting the conversation, Harrison poked his head out of the Senate room. "Doctor? Doctor, there's a video message for you."

Rather nonplussed at that, the Doctor let go of Aliya, quickly grabbing her by the hands and pulling her with him into the conference room, where Liz and Harrison and two of the Senate members had crowded around a computer. The Doctor stormed through, parting them like the Red Sea, and revealed Clara on the screen, backed by what appeared to be the Dalek ship—and, more unsettlingly, a number of Daleks behind her.

"Clara!" Frowning, the Doctor hurried forward, picking the laptop up. "Clara, what are you doing on there?"

"I made a deal," she replied meekly, and shame came to her voice. "I made a deal, and I exchanged the safety of the airship for you."

"Excuse me?" Aliya scowled, anger rising in her voice. The Doctor shushed her.

"What do you mean?"

"The Daleks want you to come to their ship, at which point they'll relinquish control of the airship they were going to crash—with 200 civilian lives on it, may I remind you—and let me go."

"And if I don't come?" The Doctor asked, wary of the answer.

"And if you don't come, they'll crash the ship into the building with the highest life count according to their scanners."

The Doctor's mood had quite visibly deflated, and he sighed, glancing down for just a moment. There was no out to this—but, when he looked up to Clara, she was giving him the sort of look that just begged for him to have a plan, and strangely enough, that brought a fair amount of hope to him, tiny as it was.

"Alright. You tell the Daleks, then, that I'll be there within a matter of minutes, and that in the meantime, they should set to quaking in their little plate skirts."

Clara couldn't help a broad grin. "I'm sending you the coordinates." And with that, she was off, and not a moment later a little message came through the communication program.

It was, in fact, a set of coordinates, but attached to the very bottom of it was a message in Welsh—one that would not translate to the surrounding government officers (with Liz as the sole exception, having spent the most time around the TARDIS out of all of them,) and did not need to translate to the Doctor, or to Aliya—and wouldn't, anyways, considering their native language was one the TARDIS didn't know.

"What is that, Welsh?" Aliya asked, the Earth language unfamiliar to the Time Lady.

"Correctamundo!" The Doctor grinned, but his expression faltered like the word had left an awful taste in his mouth, and after a moment, he added, "I think that's a word best left for my last regeneration."

Setting the laptop down, the Doctor grabbed Aliya's hand, tugging her towards the TARDIS. "I don't expect we'll be back, we've got a plan to hatch!" he called to the members of the Senate behind him, watching with a nonplussed expression.

As soon as they were in the TARDIS, the Doctor let go of Aliya's hand and shut the doors.

"What was that all about? What did the message say?" Aliya asked, following after the Doctor as he bounded up the stairs to the console.

"Clara told me, 'Crash this ship.' And I have an idea, and it involves just that."

* * *

Just as the Daleks were beginning to get impatient, the whirring of the TARDIS engines echoed throughout the ship, and a broad, somewhat hopeful smile split across Clara's face. Not three meters away from the transmat did the blue box appear, materializing. And the second it was solid and opaque, the Doctor threw the doors open, sauntering out the way he did.

"Well, here I am! You've got me at last, Daleks, and to what do I owe this pleasure?" Despite the subtle smile on the Doctor's face that didn't reach his eyes and the carefree attitude he possessed, his voice was cold and spiteful and hardly what Clara would have expected out of this specific incarnation of the exuberant Time Lord.

"You are the Doctor," one of the Daleks observed. "You will contact the Senate, you will make them surrender!"

"My, you do want that country, do you? What about Britain? Starship UK is nice and separated from the entire world and not a single other country would come as quickly to help as they would if you tried to take New Australia. What's so special that you just have to have it?"

"The new planet's Outback contains vast deposits of minerals the Daleks desire." The Dalek at the console, who ages ago Clara had deduced to be the head of command there, began to roll over to the Doctor, facing him more fully.

"That's it? Minerals? Can't you get that from anywhere?"

"You will help, or the ship will go down," the Dalek continued, completely ignoring the Doctor's words, and the Time Lord scowled.

"And what do you need me for?"

"They will listen."

The Doctor was silent for a moment, almost softening. "Well, yeah, I suppose that's true."

Not a moment later, Clara cleared her throat, doing her best to bring the Time Lord's attention to her scowling form just a meter or two away from him, and the Doctor broke out in a broad grin, sauntering over to her. "Clara! Here, go back into the TARDIS. Everything's going to be just fine, just leave me here."

Clara made an indignant noise of protest. "I'm not just gonna _leave_ you, you know!"

"Clara, I'll be fine." Without warning, the Time Lord scooped her up into a hug, but she soon discovered it was mostly so he could whisper to her, "I have a plan."

The second she was flat on her feet, the Doctor pulled his features into a reassuring smile for her, but she couldn't really hope to return it, and instead, hurried back to the blue box, shutting the door almost as quickly as it had been opened. The TARDIS then began to dematerialize.

As soon as it was gone, the Doctor spun around on his heels to face the Daleks once more, clapping his hands together. "Right! Where were we? Domination of Australia and all that?"

"Correct."

"And what if I don't help you? What if I just mosey on my way and leave you alone now that my companion is free and the ship is safe?"

"Control of the airship is still ours, Doctor." The head Dalek rolled just a little closer. "You will help us or you will watch the civilian ship burn."

The Doctor's features hardened at that, the scowl on his face meant for the Daleks seemingly plastered there.

"Fine," he replied simply, and the Dalek swiveled in triumph just a little before rolling back over to the console, expecting the Time Lord to follow—which, in fact, he did.

"Open a video communication channel with the Senate," the Dalek ordered, gesturing to the buttons with its manipulator arm. Now, the Doctor may not have been a Dalek, or ever had to control a Dalek ship, really, but he was only, and he'd seen countless kinds of technology, and if they didn't think he could work out how to pilot their ship, they were in for a surprise that the Doctor imagined would, in fact, be a little less than lovely.

Mulling over the controls for just a moment, the Doctor quickly got to work, pulling levers and smashing buttons with more exuberance than he flew his own ship, and as soon as he was done, he topped it all off by whipping out his sonic and using it on the controls. Suddenly, he turned around on his heel to the flummoxed Daleks behind him.

"I've just locked your controls," the Doctor explained, his voice boisterous as ever. "Which one of you wants to guess where this ship is being piloted now?"

The Daleks remained silent.

"Well, what a boring lot you are. The sun! This ship is being flown right into the sun that this planet orbits around at top speeds. See, I was considering crashing you into the ocean, but knowing you, you might all find a way to survive that. And that's hardly something I want." Turning around, the Doctor pressed a button, and the screen began to display a large timer reading 4 minutes and 23 seconds, continuously counting down. "That's how long you have. That's how long till impact."

The head Dalek began to approach the Doctor, its mannerisms confronting and portentous.

"No Dalek could survive that," it began. "And no ship could. And no Time Lord could. Do not forget that you're on this ship with us, Doctor. If we burn, you burn with us."

"You're right, I am here with you! What a funny thing. Not for long, though." The Doctor grinned, and without warning, pulled out his newly-repaired com unit. "Aliya? Go ahead."

Just like that, the TARDIS began to materialize again, this time around the form of the Doctor. As the man began to disappear, he gave one last eerily cheery thumbs up to the Daleks, and the TARDIS engulfed him completely. And then it began to disappear.

* * *

With a broad grin, the Doctor on the railing, leaping up the stairs of the TARDIS where Aliya piloted the ship and Clara sat in the pilot's chair, the latter looking more than a little harried.

"Look at that! Told you I had a plan, didn't I?" The Doctor asked, addressing the human.

"Yes, you did, and it went quite well, I think." Clara stood to face him, expression softening considerably. She and Aliya had been watching the entire time on the scanners—it had taken a bit of work, but eventually Aliya managed to tune them in so they watched what was happening the entire time as though the TARDIS had actually been there.

"Did you see it?" Grin widening, his gaze turned to Aliya, expectant for an answer. "Wasn't it great?"

"We did, and I think it was," Aliya replied, voice awfully proud for someone who had just witness their friend murder hundreds of alien creatures.

"Did you really send them into the sun?" Clara asked, a little more than concerned about the prospect.

"Yes," the Doctor answered frankly. "I think you're eventually going to come to see how awful the creatures really are, and how necessary something like that was."

Clara wouldn't comment on that.

"Alright, come on! Where to next?" The Time Lord spun around the console, pulling a few levers and preparing for flight again.

"I really think I ought to get back, I haven't even begun packing."

"Oh." The Doctor's face, admittedly, fell just a little as he looked up to her.

"You know I'm just going to end up right back on this ship, even if it's not at the same point for you."

"No. No, I know." That didn't change the fact that it meant he might not ever see her again, and losing a companion was never a welcomed thing to him. Quietly, he punched the coordinates in, pulling a few more levers and setting the TARDIS into motion. It took a moment before he looked up at her hopefully added, "Can I come pick you up, then? I mean, being from your future and all, I know when you'll be back on Earth away from your own… well, me."

Clara's smiled broadened. "Of course. I couldn't be happier to oblige, you know."

"Lovely!" With a wide grin, the Doctor pulled one last lever, and the TARDIS landed. "Here we are. I'll walk you out."

Before he could, Clara crossed the short distance over to the Time Lady, who'd been watching the pair and inspecting the way they interacted, and meekly held her arms open for a hug, which Aliya quickly reciprocated.

"It was lovely meeting you," Clara told her, before separating and holding the other out at arm's length. "I do hope you're with the Doctor if I ever run across him again."

"And I certainly hope you have fun with your Doctor; I mean, I'm fairly certain he'll take care of you, but if he doesn't, you tell him I'll give him a sneak peek of his next regeneration." Aliya grinned.

"Now—no, Clara, don't do that, don't do that at _all_," the Doctor warned, frowning, and the two women laughed as Clara separated from the Time Lady fully, moving to join the Doctor.

"Shall we?"

The Doctor offered his arm, and Clara gladly took it, the Time Lord looking over his shoulder to shoot a look at Aliya before walking out with his past companion.

* * *

"So here we are," the Doctor remarked. "It's a lovely flat, you know, but I think somewhere above, say, a bookstore might be more becoming of you."

Clara laughed, bowing her head. "I suppose so, yes, but opening up a bookstore takes time and money, neither of which I ever really seem to have."

"Oh, I don't know, give it a few months, maybe things will all turn around." The Doctor shot her a reassuring smile, and she was quick to return it with one of her own.

"Perhaps."

"So!" Suddenly, the Doctor clapped his hands together. "Any idea of where you're going next?"

"Well, you _did_ promise Disneyland on Saturn."

"Oh. Yeah, I did. Don't get your hopes up about that."

Clara frowned, raising an eyebrow. "Well that's heartening."

"Sorry."

They stood only for a moment more in silence before the Doctor reached forward, tapping her on the nose. "I'll see you soon, then, Clara."

"You most certainly will," she replied, wrinkling her nose and giving a wide smile.

With one last brief hug, the Time Lord disappeared into the TARDIS, and the ship began to dematerialize as Clara disappeared into her own flat to pack.

* * *

It wasn't long after that Clara could hear the sound of the TARDIS once again outside—perhaps 10 minutes after the older Doctor's had first left, and thankfully, that granted plenty of time for Clara to pack.

Snatching up her suitcase, the blonde hurried out the door, running along to the TARDIS and slipping inside.

"Sorry about disappearing on you like that," the Doctor said the second she was inside, watching as she shut the door and hauled her large bag to the stairs. "The old girl was being fussy. Hopefully I didn't keep you waiting too long, did I?"

"Not at all," Clara replied, crossing up the stairs and stopping at the top to smile down at him. The Time Lord returned the gesture.

"Good."

"So. Disneyland on Saturn."

The Doctor frowned, tilting his head to the side a little as he worked his controls. "Nah. I can't say I'm terribly hungry," he replied, and Clara frowned.

"Then I expect to be able to hold you to that promise at a later date, you know," Clara countered, dropping her suitcase in favor of crossing her arms over her chest.

"Alright, alright, I promise, we'll do Disneyland on Saturn. Soon." The Doctor flapped a hand at her, preparing the TARDIS for flight. "Where to next, then, hmm? I was thinking Santa Barbara, California. 29th century. The beach is _lovely_ this time of year, you know; they'd just started to implement these underwater lights that can make a whole coastline's worth of water look rainbow colored. It's beautiful!"

"Sounds like a plan—just let me go unpack, alright?" After a moment of consideration, Clara hopped back down the staircase, joining the Doctor at the console and pulling down the blue stabilizers before shooting him a look. "I'd like a smoother ride, if you don't mind," she explained, quickly bounding back up the stairs and carrying her suitcase back into the corridor as the Doctor watched her, completely nonplussed.

* * *

**A/N**: so that's the end of aliya (for now) and that story arc  
i fully plan on bringing aliya back later but right now i'd like to get through some other stories before hand, because to bring 11 and aliya back, i'd have to have clara back on earth by herself again, and i want to wait a while before i do a story arc that's not an adventure

in other news, the next story arc is going to be not only a crossover, but an au-  
i'm taking the episode 'shawn gets the yips' of psych and giving it a very different plot from the middle on and and doctor who-esque twist, and i'm going to have a ton of fun writing clara and the doctor into the psych universe uvu  
for those of you that don't watch psych, it is on netflix and itunes and youtube (though unfortunately, not for free) and it's one of those things that you're probably going to want to watch before reading this story arc; however, i can't say it's totally necessary, and while it might be a good deal better if you do, you can just go on not watching it if you want.

that being said, this next chapter will bring this to a 50k+ wordcount, and seeing as this began as my nano, i think that's a major accomplishment? idk that's just me  
so there might be a special 50th anniversary thing coming up (eyyyy did you see what i did there because the 50k word count and  
i know it's funny)

but yeah  
so that's about it  
i hope you guys liked aliya uvu  
and don't forget to go read mayfairy's story _Deafening Silence_ (because it's way good)

and yeah  
please leave a review on what i need to improve and what you liked and all that jazz  
and thank you for your continued patronage friend


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